ON THE MOST 

ExMINENT AND INSTRUCTIVE 

BRITISH CHARACTERS; 

INTERSPERSED WITH 

NUMEROUS ANECDOTES, 

ILLUSTRATIVE OF 

THEIR LIVES AND ACTIONS, 

AND OF THE 

TIMES IN WHICH THEY LIVED. 



BY THE 

REV. WILLIAM* BINGLEY, M.A. F.L.S. 

Late of Peter-house, Cambridge^ and Author of Animal Biography, S^c, 




BcSlgHEtJ for ti)£ U%Z of ^oatng ^erSCiB%7:;r-;r::; 




LONDON: ^"^S^j^l^^^ 

PRINTED FOR JOHN SHARPE, 
'^t l^ailes'« Uttfaenile Xilirare, IConUon jmuseunt, ^ittatJillw. 

By C, WHITTINGHAM, CHISWICK, 
1818, 



s^a? 



PREFACE. 



The delight that is experienced, and the information 
that is often elicited in domestic circles, by the 
familiar discussion of literary and scientific subjects, 
suggested the plan of the present work. It occurred 
to the author, that, if such discussions were capable 
of yielding important instruction, conversations on 
the human character, illustrative of the develope- 
ment, the progress, and attainments of the human 
mind, must be capable of yielding instruction of 
still greater importance : if, as Pope says, 

" The proper study of mankind be man," 

there can, indeed, be no species of improvement 
more apposite to this peculiar mode of writing than 
Biography, 

It is true that numerous objections have been 
made to what are called books in dialogue ; but these 
objections are chiefly appHcable to such as are in 
question and answer. The questions are said to in- 
terrupt the current of the narration, to occupy a 
space which might be filled with more important 
a 2 



i 



VI PREFACE. 

matter ; and to give to the works in which they are 
found, the character of a disagreeable and monoto- 
nous uniformity. All these objections, however, 
may, without difficulty, be avoided, by introduc- 
ing numerous characters, and adopting a dramatic 
form. 

Experience has shown that such form is pecu- 
liarly attractive to young persons. Their own ideas 
become, as it were, embodied with what they read ; 
and they fancy themselves taking part in the dis- 
cussion with those of whom they read. This mode 
of instruction has other advantages. It admits of 
scope for numerous incidental reflections and obser- 
vations of which no other form is so capable ; and,, 
from an attentive perusal of judicious discussions 
of this nature, the young may also be taught to dis- 
cuss similar subjects by themselves. The present 
volume has been drawn up with a still further view. 
Each of the lives may be turned into an exercise in 
English composition, if, for this purpose, it be 
attentively read, and if, from recollection, its prin- 
cipal contents be written down, in the form of 
a narrative. 

With respect to the peculiar plan that has been 
adopted, of arrangement under distinct heads, of 
Statesmen, Philosophers, Divines, &c. ; this, it was 



PREFACE. Vll 

considered, would be useful in giving a greater 
latitude to particular subjects ; and, at the same 
time, in affording, to the juvenile reader, an imme- 
diate view of some of those persons who have been 
most eminent in each of the classes. But, under 
such arrangement, it will be evident that an unavoid- 
able difficulty must sometimes occur, arising from 
many individuals having been celebrated for various 
acquirements. Some, for instance, who have been 
arranged under the head of divines, might, with 
equal propriety, have been placed among the philo- 
sophers ; and some among general writers, who are 
also celebrated as poets. 

Another particular must be noticed. It is known, 
to all readers of biography, that the most important 
information is not, in every case, to be looked for 
in the lives of those persons who have attained the 
greatest celebrity. In the present work the author 
has endeavoured to select such liyes only as were 
capable of affording instruction, and of making the 
strongest and most permanent impression on the 
minds of those readers, to whose use they are here 
alone appropriated. 

Another part of his design has been to insert, 
in every life, as many anecdotes as possible ; well 
knowing that the attention of young persons is. 



VIU PREFACE. 

in general, mueh more easily fixed by example than 
by precept; by incident than by observation. With 
a view to the formation of the youthful mind, he 
has inserted as many important particulars as pos- 
sible, relative to the education, and progress in 
knowledge, of the individuals whose lives he has 
made the subject of discussion ; and by the anec- 
dotes he has been able to collect, he has endeavoured 
to illustrate the advantages that result to young per- 
sons, from submission to authority and restraint, 
from application to study, from industry, integrity, 
and obedience ; and the unhappiness that is the inva- 
riable consequence of disobedience, indolence, im- 
prudence, bad company, and dissipation. But, as 
infinitely the most important of all, he has invariably 
endeavoured to show the necessity of early religious 
instruction and habits. 



Charlotte Street, Bloomshury, 
London, Dec, 15, 18 L7. 



BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX. 



Page 

Addison, Joseph 152 

BsLCOUy Lord 27 

Bacon, Roger 67 

Barrow, Dr. Isaac 115 

Becket, Archbishop ...... 3 

Boyle, Hon. Robert 73 

Boyse, Samuel 247 

Brindley, James 316 

Burke, Edmund 48 

Burnet, Bishop 119 

Bums, Robert 283 

Buxton, Jedidiah 308 

Chatham, Earl of.' 41 

Chatterton, Thomas 255 

Clarendon, Earl of. 34 

Clarke, Dr. Samuel 126 

Collins, William 252 

Cowper, William 293 

Cranmer, Archbishop.... 99 

Crichton, James 302 

Cumberland, Richard.... 209 

Dermody, Thomas 259 

Doddridge, Dr 133 

Dryden, John 238 

Ferguson; James 333 j 

Fox, Charles James 61 



Page 

Goldsmith, Oliver 176 

Howard, John 340 

Jewel, Bishop.... 110 

Johnson, Dr. Samuel 187 

Jones, Sir William 201 

Jonson, Ben 223 

Locke, John 79 

Latimer, Bishop 104 

Milton, John 229 

More, Sir Thomas 20 

Newton, Sir Isaac 85 

Otway, Thomas 244 

Paley, Archdeacon 146 

Pattison, William 246 

Pitt, William 56 

Pope, Alexander 264 

Shakspeare, William 217 

Skelton, Rev. Philip 137 

Smeaton, John 322 

Steele, Sir Richard 159 

Swift, Dean 165 

Thomson, James 273 

Watts, Dr. Isaac 130 

Wickliffe, John 96 

Wolsey, Cardinal 13 

Younar, Dr 277 



INDEX 



THE PRINCIPAL CONTENTS. 



Pa?e 

Lord Bacon 32 I 

Thomas a Becket .... 11 



Ambition. — Examples and dangers of Ambition. 

Paee 

Lord Clarendon 39 

Cai'dinal Wolsey . . . 17-18 

Application to Study.— Advantages of early Application; 
and examples of rapid progress in Study. 

Sir William Jones . . 202-204 

Milton 229 

Sir Thomas More .... 21 
Sir Isaac Newlon . . . 86-87 

Dr.Paley 147 

Pitt 56 

Skelton 137 

Dean Swift 166 

Dr. Watts 130 

Wicklifte 97 

Cardinal Wolsey .... 13 



Lord Bacon 28 

Friar Bacon 68 

Thomas k Becket .... 5 

Bojle 74 

Barke 48-49 

Bishop Burnet 120 

Dr. Samuel Clarke .... 127 
Archbishop Cranmer . , . 100 

Crichton 304 

Cumberland 210 

Ferguson 333 

Bishop Jewel 110 

Adversity. — Conduct of good men in Adversity. 

Lord Clarendon 36 | Bishop Latimer 108 

Archbishop Cranmer . . . 103 | Sir Thomas More . . . 23-25 

Bad Company. — Pernicious effects of bad Company. 

Challerton 258 1 Otway 244 

Dermody 259 1 

^ Christian Religion. — Opinions of eminent men concerning 
the excellence, the necessity, and the advantages of the 
Christian Religion. 

>05-208 
. 83 
. 164 
. 164 
. 132 
. 282 



Addison 157 

Boyle 75-78 

Burke 55 

Lord Chatham 47 

Lord Clarendon . , . , . 35 
Dr. Johnson 190 

Contentment. — Advantages and examples of Contentment. 



Sir William Jones 
Locke .... 
Sir Isaac Newlon 
Sir Richard Steele 
Dr. Watts . . . 
Dr. Young . . 



Smeaton . . . . . . . 322 

Thomson 275 



Ferguson 333 

Sir Thomas More .... 25 
Skelton 138 

Courage and Presence of Mind, — Instances of. 
Barrow . , 117 I Sir Thomas More . 



INDEX OF THE PRINCIPAI, CONTENTS. 



DlSSlPATION.- 

Dissipalion. 
Boyse . . . 

Barns . . . 
Chatlerlon 



-Disadvantages and unhappiiiess resulting tVoui 



247 



258 



Derraody 262 

Jonson 227 

Otway 244 



Education. — Advantages of parental attention in the super- 
intendence of youth. 

Addison 152 I Pitt 56 

Sir William Jones . . . .202 Thomson 273 

Dr. Johnson 188 



Extravagance* 

Lord Bacon 32 

Royse 248-249 

Collins 253 



Pernicious consequences of Extravagance. 

Fox 63 

Otway 245 



Greatness of Mind.— Examples of Greatness of Mind, and 
Self-command. 

Lord Bacon 32 Bishop Latimer . . . 

Lord Clarendon 34 Sir Tliomas More . . 

Archbishop Cranmer . . . 103 

Honours, — Generous contempt of. 



Boyle 76-77 

Bishop Burnet 119 

Bishop Latimer 104 

Imprudence, — Pernicious effects of. 

BoTse .247 

Burns 287, &c. 

Collins 252 

Chalterton 258 

Dryden . . ... . . .241 



Locke .... 
Sir Thomas More 



Dr. Goldsmith . 
Jonson .... 
Pattison . . . 
Otway .... 
Sir Richard Steele 



106 



82 

23 



177, &c. 
. . 227 
. . 246 
. . 244 
160, &c. 



Integrity, — Advantages and examples of. 



Bishop Latimer ..... 108 
Sir Thomas More . . 21, &c. 
Sir Isaac Newton .... 91 
Smeaton ....... 322 



Addison 154 

Lord Chatham 42 

Lord Clarendon , . , , , 36 

Cumberland 212 

Dr. Goldsmith 186 

Integrity, — Bad consequences of departing from. 

Sir Francis Bacon 31 

Low Situations in Life. — Examples of men having risen 
into eminence, by industry and merit, from low situations in 
life. 

Sir Isaac Newton .... 85 

Shakspeare ?17 

Skelton 137 



Ferguson 333 

Dr. Johnson 188 

Bishop Latimer 104 

Locke 79 



VVicklifte 97 



A/' 



INDEX OF THE PRINCIPAL CONlENlS. 



Ostentation and Pride, — Examples of. 

Thomas a Becket .... 10 | Cardinal Wolsey .... 

Piety. — Instances of exemplary Piety. See also Religion, 

Collins 254 

Dr. Doddridge 135 

Bishop Jewel ...... 112 



16 



Dr. Johnson . . . 190-193-199 
Sir Thomas More .... 23 
Skelton 138 



Religion. — Examples of the consolation of Religion in adver- 
sity, and at the approach of death. 



Addison 158 

Lord Bacon 32 

Boyle 77 

Bishop Burnet 124 

Burke 55 

Locke 83 

Sir Thomas More ... 25-26 
Sir Isaac Newton .... 93 
Dr. Paley 148 

Restraint in Youth, — Pernicious effects of a want of. 

Boyse 248 L Pattison 246 

Dermody 260 j Sir Richard Steele .... 160 

Study, — Examples of intense application to. 



A.rchbishop Cranmer . . . 103 
Cumberland ... . . . 214 

Dr. Johnson . . . . . .200 

Sir William Jones .... 208 

Bishop Latimer 109 

Pitt 59 

Dr. Watts 132 

Dr. Young 282 



Bishop Jewel 112 

Milton . . . . . . . .235 

Sir Isaac Newton .... 92 



Friar Bacon 68 

Bishop Burnet 120 

Lord Clarendon 34 

Dr. Samuel Clarke . . . .127 

Talent.— Examples of men of extraordinary, or great ver- 
satility of Talent. 



Friar Bacon ..... 67-70 

Lord Bacon 28 

Dr. Isaac Barrow .... 116 

Dermody 260 

Ferguson 333 

Fox . . . 62 

Thomas a Becket .... 5 

Boyle 73 

Brindley 316 

Burke 30 

Bishop Burnet 119 

Burns 285 

Truth, — Value of a strict regard for. 

Boyle 74 [ Dr. Johnson 

Cumberland . . . . . . 210 | 



Jedidiah Buxton 308 

Dr. Clarke 128 

Crichton 304 

Bishop Jewel Ill 

Sir William Jones .... 208 
Dr. Johnson .... 188-192 
Sir Thomas More .... 20 
Sir Isaac Newton .... 85 

Pitt 58 

Sraeaton 322 

Wickliffe $7 



189 



3$ioerapi^tcal €on'i>tt0Mmx0* 



INTRODUCTION. 



XT was a little before Christmas that Frederic Mon- 
tagu, accompanied by his tutor the Rev. Mr. Allen, 
had arrived at Seaford Castle, in Devonshire, the 
seat of his uncle Sir Charles Irwin. They had 
been invited to pass there a few months previously 
to Frederic making his final preparations for college. 
Sir Charles's family at this time consisted of himself, 
Lady Irwin, his son Edmund, a youth about seven- 
teen years of age, and two daughters, of whom 
Louisa was the elder, but both of them younger 
than their brother. 

The education of Edmund had been wholly con- 
ducted by Sir Charles, who, as far as it was possible, 
had sought to let recreation and instruction go hand 
in hand, and to communicate knowledge through the 
medium of amusement. 

B 



INTRODUCTION. 

Frederic had not been long at Seaford before Sir 
Charles, in conjunction with Mr. Allen, had con- 
certed several plans for the useful occupation of. 
their time. One of these was that, in the evenings, 
w^hen they were otherwise disengaged, they should 
discuss the lives and characters of different persons, 
eminent for their talents, their learning, and their 
virtues. It was proposed that Edmund and Frede- 
ric should prepare themselves, on the respective 
subjects, from books in Sir Charles's library ; and it 
was considered thkt the discussion would not only 
afford Sir Charles and Mr. Allen a means of exa- 
mining them as to the information they should thus 
obtain, but also of communicating to them any im- 
portant facts or observations that might escape their 
researches. 

The scheme was no sooner suggested than the 
young gentlemen were eager to put it into execu- 
tion. They were requested to select the lives of 
such persons as they considered most interesting. 
The choice was left wholly to themselves. All the 
direction they received was, that these were to be 
discussed in classes, and, as far as convenient, 
according to the order of time in which they had 
flourished. 



EMINENT STATESMEN. 



FIRST EVENING. 

1 HE family party had assembled in Sir Charles 
Irwin's library, and after the servants had brought 
in the tea, Sir Charles, playfully quoting Cowper, 
exclaimed, 

Now stir the fire, now close the shutters fast, 
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round; 
And, while the bubbling, and loud hissing urn 
Throws up a steamy column — let our strife 
Commence. 

Frederic and Edmund. We are quite prepared, sir. 

Lady Irivin, I shall have great pleasure in being 
permitted occasionally to join in your conversation. 
The plan that Sir Charles has mentioned, appears to 
me a very useful one; and I am confident you will 
each derive much information from it. 

Sir Charles, With the least attention on their part 
it cannot be otherwise ; for of all the kinds of narrative 
with which I am acquainted, I know none that is 
capable of yielding more important instruction, that is 
more eagerly read, or can be more easily applied to the 
purposes of life, than biography. But let me not be 
misunderstood. By biography I do not mean a mere 
chronological detail of actions, or of the dates of 
events that have occurred. Little indeed that the 
memory is able to retain can be derived from such. 
It is the office of biography, as Dr. Johnson has justly 
observed, to find out the paths which lead to our finest 
sensibilities; and, by acquainting us with domestic 
transactions, introducing us to private hours, and dis- 
B 2 



4 STATESMKN. 

closing to lis the secret propensities, enjoyments, and 
weaknesses of mankind, to increase our sympathy, 
heighten our curiosity, teach us to feel for the situation 
of others, and, by the effect of their examples, how to 
correct and conduct our own lives. 

Lady L^win, It has often occurred to me that anec- 
dotes of private and domestic life must have a peculiar 
tendency to excite interest, as the happiness or misery 
vrliich is detailed in such anecdotes, it is at least within 
the bounds of possibility, we may ourselves experience. 

Sir Charles. We will now, if you please, proceed 
to business. Who, Frederic, is to be the subject of 
this evening's conversation? 

Frederic, Edmund and I have looked over the 
History of England, as far as it relates to the reigns of 
Henry the Second and Henry the Eighth; and the 
different lives with which your library has furnished us 
of Archbishop Becket, and Cardinal Wolsey. We 
have selected these first, from their having been emi- 
nent statesmen of early times, and having had con- 
siderable alliance, in character and fortune, to each 
other. 

Sir Charles, Of these, Thomas a Becket, as he 
is usually called, w^as by far the most ancient. You 
shall therefore commence with him; and, in the first 
place, let me ask you who he was ? 

Edmund, He was Archbishop of Canterbury, and 
High Chancellor of England during part of the reign 
of Henry the Second. Wolsey was chancellor in the 
reign of Henry the Eighth. 

Mr, Allen, Which of you can inform me in what 
the duties of chancellor consist? 

Frederic, T can. He is the chief magistrate in the 
judicial establishment of this country, and sits as judge 
in a court called the Court of Chancery. The office 
of chancellor used formerly to be conferred on some 
dignified clergyman, who w^as remarkable for his abili- 
ties, and for his knowledge of the law. Such were 



THOMAS A BECKET. 5 

botli Becket and Wolsey. The Lord Chancellor has 
also the custody of the Great Seal, and is President 
or Speaker of the House of Lords. 

Sir Charles. Right: — but it must be observed that 
this office is now, in many particulars, different from 
what it was formerly ; and is by no means so extensive 
either in its powers or its privileges. 

In what station of life were the parents of Becket? 

Edmund, His father was a London merchant who 
had been taken prisoner at Jerusalem during the cru- 
sades, and was assisted in his escape by a Saracen 
lady, daughter of the person in whose custody he was 
detained. She fell in love with him, and was after- 
wards married to him; and their son was Thomas h, 
Becket. 

Frederic, When of sufficient age this boy was sent 
to Merton Abbey, in Surry, for his education. He 
afterwards pursued his studies in the University of 
Oxford, and subsequently in Paris. His advance- 
ment in life was extremely rapid. 

Mr, Allen, And to what was this chiefly owing ? 

Frederic, To his very extraordinary talents; but I 
do not recollect by what means he obtained his first 
elevation. 

Edmund. I am surprised at that, Frederic. I will 
tell you. Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, in- 
formed of his rapid progress in learning, was induced 
to take him under his protection, and send him into 
Italy to study the canon and civil law. At his return 
he gave him considerable preferment in the church; 
and so strongly recommended him to the notice of 
Henry the Second, that he was appointed tutor to 
the prince, the son of that king; and, before he was 
forty yeai's of age, was elevated to the rank of chan- 
cellor. 

Frederic, Now I recollect; and I recollect also the 
manner in which he is said to have conducted himself 
in his new office. He wholly laid aside his former 
character of a clergyman, and assumed that of a 



6 STATESMEN. 

courtier. He now conformed, in every particular, to 
the king's humour; partook of all his diversions, 
affected to observe the same hours of eating and going 
to bed, and to follow, in almost every other particular, 
the conduct of the king. 

Sir Charles. William Fitz-Stephen, a monk of Can- 
terbury, who had been his private secretary, informs 
us that nothing could exceed at this time the splen- 
dour of Becket's household. He lived in the utmost 
magnificence, and entertained such numerous guests at 
his banquets, that he was obliged to have his rooms 
every day covered with clean hay or straw in winter, 
and with green boughs or rushes in summer, lest his 
guests, not finding seats at his table, should soil their 
clothes by sitting on the floor. 

Mr. Allen. And it is related that he has been known 
to spend as much as five pounds on a single dish of eels. 

Edmund. That was very extravagant, particularly as 
I know that five pounds were then equal in value to a 
larger sum than at present. 

Mr, Allen. Indeed they were, an infinitely larger 
sum than you have any notion of. Five pounds, at 
that time, were five pounds weight of silver ; and these 
would purchase articles of the value of more than a 
hundred and fifty pounds of present money. 

Edmund. You astonish me ! 

Mr. Allen. But this was not all. When he travelled 
in state he is said to have been attended by more than 
two hundred knights, and by numerous other gay do- 
mestics. In his suite he had eight waggons. Two of 
these carried his ale ; three the furniture of his chapel, 
of his bed-chamber, and his kitchen ; and in the re- 
maining three were conveyed his provisions, and other 
things requisite to the support of his establishment. 
Twelve pack-horses bore his money, plate, and utensils. 
To each waggon was chained a fierce mastiff, and on 
each pack-horse sat a baboon. 

Frederic. How absurd a cavalcade ! The baboons 
must have made a very ridiculous appearance ! 



THOMAS A BECKET. 7 

Mr. Allen, In an age of ignorance all this mum- 
mery may have excited astonishment; but at present 
such conduct could only rouse our contempt. 

Edmund, Frederic has obsen ed, that when Becket 
became chancellor he wholly laid aside his character 
of a clergyman. W hat you have mentioned sufficiently 
proves this ; but it is completely shown by his conduct 
whilst with Henry the Second in France. He there 
personally engaged in several military exploits, and 
even fought in single combat with a French knight, 
famous for his valour, whom he dismounted wdth his 
lance, and whose horse he gained and led oflF in tri- 
umph. This was surely very improper in a man who 
had ever entertained any due respect for his sacred 
profession. 

Frederic, He was now in such favour with the king, 
that all the most important business of the state was 
committed to his management. Henry honoured him 
with his friendship and intimacy; and when he was 
disposed to amuse himself in sports of any description, 
Becket was always admitted of the party. 

Edmund, A very extraordinary instance of the fami- 
liarity that existed betwixt the king and the chancellor 
has been recorded. They were one day riding togetlier 
in the streets of London, when they observed a beggar 
shivering with cold. ** It would be a good deed," 
said the king, ** to give that shivering wretch a coat.'^ 
*'True,'' replied Becket, *' and you, sir, may give him 
yours.^^ '* No, he shall have thine," retorted Henry ; 
and seizing the skirt of the chancellor's vest, after a 
violent struggle, in which they had nearly dismounted 
each other, he succeeded in pulling it off. This done, 
he bestovv ed it on the astonished mendicant. 

Sir Charles, This anecdote is not only in itself 
extraordinary, but is of considerable importance, as 
exhibiting a trait of the manners of the age to which it 
relates. 

Edmund, We should not be a little surprised at 
present, were we to hear of such conduct of the king 



a STATESMEN. 

and lord chancellor any where, but more particularly 
in the public streets of London. 

Frederic, Becket, by his general complaisance and 
good humour, had rendered himself so agreeable, and 
by his industry and abilities was become so useful to 
his master, that, on the death of the Archbishop of 
Canterbury, he was selected as the fittest person to fill 
the vacancy in that see. 

Mr. Allen, We might now, with reason, consider 
him at the summit of his ambition. He possessed the 
chancellorship, was Archbishop of Canterbury, and 
had been appointed legate or ambassador for the court 
of Rome. With consummate hypocrisy, however, he 
considered it requisite to change his character. He 
now affected to act the part of a saint, and sought to 
acquire a peculiar reputation for sanctity. Omitting 
even to consult the king on the subject, he gave up his 
commission of chancellor, pretending that he must 
thenceforward detach himself from worldly concerns, 
and employ himself wholly in the exercise of his spi- 
ritual functions. 

Frederic, And he carried this project into effect in 
a very singular manner. In his retinue and attendants 
he retained all his former pomp and grandeur — 

Mr, Allen, Which he still considered useful, to 
astonish and overawe the vulgar. 

Frederic, And he assumed, in his own person, the 
greatest austerity, and the most rigid mortification. 
Such conduct he no doubt imagined would have an 
equal, or perhaps a greater tendency to the same end. 
He wore sackcloth next his skin. 

Mr, Allen, Yes ! and by his affected care to conceal 
it, contrived that it should be more particularly noticed 
by the world. 

Frederic. But what is most remarkable, it was so 
filthy, and he changed it so seldom, that this sackcloth 
was filled with vermin. His usual diet was bread; 
and his drink water, which he even rendered further 
unpalatable by mixing it with unsavoury herbs. He 



THOMAS A BECKET. 9 

daily, on his knees, in imitation of Christ, waslied the 
leet of thirteen beggars, whom he afterwards dismissed 
with presents ; and he seemed to be perpetually em- 
ployed in reciting prayers, in pious lectures, or in 
perusing religious writings. 

Edmund, Surely he must have been sincere or he 
would not have endured such painful and mortifying 
deprivations as these. 

Sir Charles, All men of penetration were able to 
discover that under this disguise he was meditating 
some great design ; and that his ambition and ostenta- 
tion had only been turned towards some new and more 
dangerous object. 

Frederic, His violent and overbearing conduct was 
almost immediately afterwards the cause of a rupture 
betwixt himself and the king ; and Henry, enraged at 
his ingratitude, overstepped the bounds both of mode- 
ration and prudence, in his determination if possible 
to punish him. After a long and bitter contest, on 
different subjects relative to the then unbounded pri- 
vileges of the clergy, he caused Becket to be prose- 
cuted on a charge of having, while chancellor, applied 
to his own use the public money. 

Edmund, And, during the trial, we are told that 
Becket insolently entered the council room, with his 
crosier in his hand, to intimidate the judges ; but, not- 
withstanding his boldness, he was condemned. 

Frederic, He w as so ; but he found means to avoid 
punishment by escaping into Flanders, where he resided 
for some years in one of the convents. 

Sir Charles. What were the consequences of this 
quarrel and proceedure ? 

Edmnnd, The pope espoused Becket's cause, and so 
great was his power over the church at this period, 
that Henry was at length obliged to consent that a 
conference should be held for amicably adjusting the 
differences which had occurred. For this purpose he 
went into France ; and, to show his willingness towards 
a reconciliation, declared publicly^ in the presence of 
B 3 



10 STATESx\lEIS. 

the French king, *' It Becket will only pay to me the 
same submission which the greatest of his predecessors 
have paid to the least of mine, I shall be well satisfied." 

Sir Charles, This appears to have been sufficiently 
candid on the part of the king ; and it might be pre- 
sumed, that Becket would, without hesitation, have 
assented to so reasonable a proposition. 

Edmund, No ; the haughty prelate had hopes, through 
the influence of the pope, of still fm-ther humbling his 
master, and at length by that means of rendering his 
own power over the English clergy beyond control; 
and on a trivial allegation he contrived that the con- 
ference should terminate without effect. 

Frederic, But Becket and the king were at length 
reconciled. 

Edmund, They were, but not mi til the king had 
been compelled to receive him again into his dominions 
on the most humiliating terms. It was agreed that all 
the subjects in dispute should continue in the same 
state as before the commencement of the controversy ; 
and, that Becket should in no respect be required to 
surrender what were termed the rights of the church. 

Mr, Allen, You have omitted to state, that Henry 
was so anxious to reconcile himself fully with Becket, 
that he tookfthe most extraordinary steps to flatter his 
vanity; and that on one occasion he even degraded 
himself so far as to hold the stirrup whilst the haughty 
churchman mounted and dismounted his horse. 

How did Becket conduct himself on his return to 
England ? 

Edmund, He made a public entry into London, 
amidst the acclamations of the populace ; and his pride 
having been increased by his success, he proceeded 
from town to town in a sort of triumphal cavalcade. 
Scarcely was his poAver restored than he began to exert 
it to the utmost extent, and to conduct himself towards 
all the adherents of the king in the most tyrannical 
and arbitrary manner. 

Sir Charles. And this procedure proved fatal to him» 



THOMAS A BECKET. 11 

Edmund, It did; for the king, who was then in 
Normandy, exasperated to an excess by the innume- 
rable complaints that w^ere made to him, at length ex- 
claimed, in fury, ** Is there no one who will avenge 
their monarch's cause upon this audacious priest?" 
His attendants were roused almost to madness ; and 
four knights hastened to Canterbury, entered the cathe- 
dral where Becket was officiating with a few of his 
attendants, and slew him with their battle-axes at the 
foot of the altar. 

Sir Charles, I will request of Frederic to inform u&, 
what he has been able to collect respecting the character 
of Thomas k Becket. 

Frederic, Most willingly, sir. He was a man of 
extraordinary talents, elevated mind, and invincible 
coinage ; but of an overbearing and turbulent spirit ; 
passionate, haughty, and vain-glorious ; in liis resolu- 
tions inflexible, and in his resentments implacable. 
Lord Lyttleton, in his history of Henry the Second, 
has indeed delineated his character in such strong and 
various lights, that he has left us at a loss to determine, 
whether we can more admire the polished courtier and 
able statesman, or detest the haughty prelate and the 
bigotted and outrageous incendiary. 

Mr, Allen, But how was the character of Becket 
esteemed by the people after his death ? 

Frederic, Oh ! the clergy, whose power at this un- 
eiiliglited period Was unbounded, contrived to influence 
the minds of the populace in such a manner, that they 
considered him a mart} r to the cause of religion. His 
resolution during life, and the heroism with which he 
is said to have died, confirmed their former notions of 
his sanctity. Every advantage was taken of this ; and 
shortly afterwards it was declared, that miracles had 
been wrought at his tomb. These at length were 
believed to have been so numerous, that one of the 
monkish writers informs us, there were two large 
volumes of them recorded and kept in the church of 
Canterbury. 



12 STATESMEN. 

Lady Irwin, What were the kind of miracles chiefly 
believed to have been wrought there ? 

Mr. Allen, They were of almost every description. 
The contrivances of the monks were such, that they 
imposed on the people a belief not only that men, but 
that cows, dogs, and horses had been restored to life 
on his tomb. They even reported, that he rose from 
hi3 coffin before he was buried, to light the tapers de- 
signed for his own funeral; and, that when that cere- 
mony was ended, he stretched forth his hand to bless 
the people. It seems scarcely possible to conceive the 
credulity which existed respecting St. Thomas of Canter- 
bury, as he was subsequently denominated. Pilgrimages 
from almost all parts of Europe were made to his 
tomb. A hundred thousand pilgrims to Canterbury 
have been registered at one time; and the devotion 
paid to him was infinitely greater than that paid to 
deity himself. 

Lady Irwin, I suppose this mockery of religion 
must have terminated at the reformation of the church, 
in the reign of Henry the Eighth. 

Mr, Allen, It did; and in a manner not a little 
absurd. By an extraordinary legal process Thomas ^ 
Becket, more than three hundred and fifty years after 
he had been dead, was cited to appear in court, and 
was then tried and condemned as a traitor to Henry 
the Second. After this his name was ordered to be 
struck out of the calendar, his bones to be degraded 
and burnt, and their ashes to be scattered in the air. 

Sir Charles Irwin here interrupted the conversation, 
by observing, that as the life of Becket had occupied a 
considerably longer time than he had expected, he 
should prefer closing the discussion for that night ; and 
deferring the account of Wolsey till the next. This 
arrangement was immediately assented to ; and the 
principal remaining part of the evening was occupied 
v/ith music. 



CARDINAL WOLSEY. 13 



SECOND EVENING. 

It will be recollected that Frederic had given, as a 
reason for selecting the life of Cardinal Wolsey 
to follow that of Becket, that the characters of these 
two personages had many points of near resemblance. 
Sir Charles Irwin, on the name of A^^olsey being now 
introduced, took the opportunity to remark, that ambi- 
tion, pride, and ostentation, or a love of pageantry, 
were common to them both : that they had each risen 
from insignificant stations in life to the highest offices 
of the state ; and that they furnish us with examples as 
extraordinary as any that are on record of the vicissi- 
tude of human affairs. 

In reply to an inquiry from Sir Charles respecting 
the origin of AVolsey, Frederic stated, that he was 
generally believed to have been the son of a butcher, 
who lived at Ipswich ; and to have been born there in 
the year 1471. Edmund, however, remarked, that 
some persons were of opinion his father had been a 
gentleman of independent fortune. 

Sir Charles Irwin then inquired respecting his edu- 
cation ? 

Frederic, When very young he was sent to a gram- 
mar school ; and, by the time he was twelve years of 
age, was admitted a member of Magdalen- college, 
Oxford. 

Edmund, He was much younger than you, 
Frederic, Nearly six years. Students are not now 
admitted at the imiversities at so early an age as they 
were formerly. But Wolsey was remarkably young, 
so much so indeed, that when he took his first degree 
of Bachelor of Arts, he was often distinguished by 
the title of '^ the boy bachelor." His first preferment 

in the church was 

Edmund, Stay, Frederic; you are omitting all ac- 
count of his early life. Wolsey, when a young man, 
you must recollect, was induced to settle in the country 



14 STATESxMEN. 

in the capacity of a schoolmaster; and it is generally 
believed that he wrote the Accidence that is attached 
to Lily's Latin Grammar. He was afterwards em- 
ployed as a private tutor in the family of the Marquis 
of Dorset, from whom he obtained his first preferment 
in the church. 

Mr, Allen. The marquis gave him the lidng of 
Lymington, in Somersetshire ; and how did he conduct 
himself when he went to reside there ? 

Edmund. Not as a clei^yman ought, certainly. His 
dissipated habits had induced him to go to a neighbour- 
ing fair, where he got drunk, and as a punishment was 
set in the stocks ; a very pretty example truly to such 
of his parishioners as happened to have been assembled 
there. 

Frederic. One might have hoped such conduct Avould 
have been punished by his being degraded, and not 
suffered to continue a clergyman. 

Mr. Allen. But this was not the case. It appears 
in no respect even to have impeded his preferment. 

Sir Charles. Wolsey's greatest anxiety about this 
time seems to have been, how he could gain admittance 
at court. 

Frederic, It was; for he had often been heard to 
say, that *' if he could but set one foot there, he would 
soon introduce his whole body." Such were his talents, 
and so great his ambition, that he shortly afterwards 
accomplished his Avishes ; and notwithstanding the dis- 
grace attached to his former conduct, was admitted into 
the confidence and favour of King Henry the Seventh, 

Sir Charles. Henry employed him as a confidential 
agent in settling some points relative to his marriage 
with Margaret of Savoy, who then resided at Bruges. 
Do you recollect a singular anecdote that has been told 
relative to this embassy ? 

Frederic. I do, perfectly. Henry had directed 
Wolsey to proceed to the continent without delay; and 
three days afterwards was astonished to see him still 
at court. He began to reprove him with severity. 



CARDINAL WOLSEY. 15 

Wolsey informed the king that he had returned from 
Bruges, after having successfully terminated the nego- 
ciation with which he had been entrusted. 

Edmund, To have been so expeditious, and at the 
same time so successful, must have given great satis- 
faction to Henry, at least as far as it respected the 
apparent anxiety of Wolsey to promote his views. 

Mr, Allen, At the death of the king, were not all 
the ambitious projects of Wolsey terminated ? 

Frederic, Indeed, sir, they were not ; for Henry the 
Seventh having been succeeded by his son, then only 
eighteen years of age, Wolsey soon contrived to attain 
an entire ascendency over him. He was at once sub- 
missive and enterprising: he sung, he laughed, he 
danced with all the dissipated characters of the court; 
and humoured every vicious propensity of his master. 
This he soon found was the path to the highest prefer- 
ments in the church, and the most important offices of 
the state. 

Sir Charles, What were the chief preferments and 
offices that he obtained ? 

Frederic. Henry the Eighth created him Archbishop 
of York ; and permitted him to hold at the same time 
the bishoprics of Durham and Winchester. He was 
afterwards made High Chancellor; the pope named 
him his legate or ambassador; and completed his ex- 
altation by creating him a cardinal. 

Mr, Allen, What is a cardinal? 

Frederic, An ecclesiastic of the church of Rome, a 
member of the conclave or college that is invested 
with the power of electing the pope, and performing 
other high offices in the Romish church. 

Sir Charles. At this period of his history, I am sure 
you must have noted many circumstances in the con- 
duct of Wolsey similar to those of Thomas a Becket. 

Frederic, I have remarked several, but none more 
extraordinary than those that relate to the ostentation 
exhibited in his household and establishment. The 
former consisted of eight hundred persons, many of 



16 STATESMEN. 

whom were knights and gentlemen of fortune; and 
even some of the nobility allowed their sons to bear 
offices in his family as domestics. On his promotion 
to the chancellorship, he added to his former parade 
four footmen with gilt pole-axes, a gentleman to carry 
the great seal before him, and an additional train of 
attendants, who rode on horseback, while he himself 
was mounted on a mule, caparisoned with crimson 
velvet. In this state he went every Sunday from his 
residence of York -house, now Whitehall, to the court 
at Greenwich. 

The walls of the chief apartments in his palaces 
were hung with cloth of gold. He had a complete 
service of solid gold ; and in his chambers were several 
large tables wholly covered with plate. A thousand 
pieces of fine linen are stated to have been found among 
the contents of his wardrobe ; and all his other o'oods 
and furniture were sumptuous in proportion. 

Mr. Allen. Thus ostentatious, we may presume that 
the cardinal had no small dislike to see even any 
attempt to rival him in his pageantry. 

Frederic. This I think was evident in many instances, 
but certainly so in one. Cardinal Campeggio, who had 
been sent from the pope on important business to the 
court of England, wished to make a splendid entry into 
London. He applied to Wolsey, who supplied him 
with many mules richly caparisoned, and handsome 
trunks to convey his baggage. Unluckily liowever for 
him, it was so contrived that as the procession paraded 
along the streets, one of the mules should be thrown 
down ; and the chests upon his back flying open ex- 
posed to view, not as might have been expected, rich 
copes and embroidered vestments, not golden chalices 
and massy plate, but old shoes, worn-ovit stockings, 
tattered clothes, and the most offensive kinds of trash. 
The populace was much diverted >vith so singular an 
exposure of poverty, under an affectation of splendour; 
and Wolsey himself is believed to have been highly 
delighted with the success of his contrivance. 



CARDINAL WOLSEY. 17 

Sir Charles, It appears that Wolsey was now at 
he summit of his glory : it might be supposed that his 
ambition was fully satiated, and that thei^ was no higher 
stations that he could look forward to than those which 
he now held. He was caressed and flattered by most 
of the powers of Europe. And by presents from 
foreign courts, and the unlimited munificence of his 
own sovereign, his revenues are supposed to have fallen 
little short of the revenues of tlie crown. 

Frederic, Yet he was not contented, for he enter- 
tained hopes, through the influence he possessed, of 
succeeding to the popedom, on the first vacancy that 
occurred. 

Mr. Allen. But he found himself disappointed. On 
the contrary, like an idol set up by fortune, he was 
hurled almost in an instant from all his greatness, and 
reduced to a condition infinitely more vnretched than 
that from which he had originally sprung. Edmund 
can probably relate the account of his downfall. 

Edmund, I will endeavour to do so, sir. The king 
having conceived an affection for a young lady of the 
court, the daughter of Sh' Thomas Boleyn, determmed 
to obtain a divorce from his queen, for the purpose of 
marrying this lady. Wolsey endeavoured to dissuade 
him from it, and by so doing lost the favour of his 
master. His numerous enemies now exerted all their 
influence to prejudice the king against him ; and they 
succeeded so far as to induce Henry to send two 
nobi^jnen to demand that he should deliver up to them 
the Great Seal. 

M7\ Allen. This, in other words, was to deprive him 
of the chancellorship. What was Wolsey's reply ? 

Edmund. He told them, with manly fortitude, that 
** as he had received the seal from his majesty's hands, 
into those alone it should be delivered." But Henry, 
on the following day sent in a manner so peremptory 
that he was compelled to surrender it. 

Mr. Allen. The king, however, after a little while, 
began to think this treatment of his former favoui'ite 



18 STATESMEN. 

somewhat too harsh; and sent to him a ring, in token 
that he had not quite forgot him. 

Edmund, He did so, and the consequence on the 
part of Wolsey was an instance of meanness in adver- 
sity, as great as his insolence had often been in pros- 
perity. He sprang from his horse, and fell on his 
knees in the muddy road that he might receive the 
inestimable gift with due respect. 

His enemies, however, proved too powerful; and 
the fallen cardinal at length finding it vain to hope for 
any favourable change in his circumstances, summoned 
all his officers before him. With the utmost coolness 
he ordered an account to be taken of his whole pro- 
perty ; and the several moveables ha\dng been arranged 
in an extensive gallery of his house, and the chamber 
adjoining, he directed them all to be left there for the 
use of the king. 

Sir Charles, And how, Edmund, was he circum- 
stanced after this ? 

Edmund, He now severely felt the weight of poverty. 
He w as banished from the court to his house at Esher, 
in Surry. Here he, who a little while before had 
possessed apparently exhaustless treasures, was suf- 
fered to continue for three weeks without a bed, a 
table-cloth, or even a dish to eat his meat from. He 
had no money, and might even have perished with 
hunger, had it not been for supplies that were sent 
him by the country people, who commiserated his 
misfortunes. 

Sir Charles, But he was still permitted to retain 
some of his former dignities. 

Edmund, Yes; he had not been deprived of the 
Archbishopric of York, but it does not appear that he 
was able at this juncture to obtain any pecuniary ad- 
vantages from it; for when ordered, as was shortly 
afterwards the case, to retire to the archiepiscopal seat 
at Cawood, near York, his journey was for some time 
delaved, from want of money to defray the expenses 
of it. 



CARDINAL WOLSEY. 19 

Sir Charles. And was he suffered to pass the remain- 
der of his days in peace? 

Edmund. No. He had not long been there before 
he was arrested on a charge of high treason. To 
answer this charge it was requisite he should return to 
London ; and he died on the journey. 

Sir Charles, You are able, no doubt, to relate the 
particulars respecting his death. They were not only 
in themselves extraordinary, but they afford a very 
impressive lesson of the miseries to which ambitious 
men are subject. 

Edmund, The cardinal had travelled as far south as 
Leicester; and, in an enfeebled state of body, amving 
at the gate of the monastery near that town, the abbot 
and monks came out in a body to meet him. They 
received him with every external mark of respect. 
The cardinal could merely say, '' Father Abbot, I am 
come to lay my bones among you." He continued on 
the mule that he had ridden till he came to the stairs 
leading to a chamber appointed for his reception ; and 
he was then with much difficulty conducted up stairs 
to bed. 

This was on Saturday, the twenty-fifth of Novem- 
ber, 1530 ; and on the Monday following his disorder 
had so far increased, that in the general opinion of his 
attendants he could not long sundve. On Tuesday he 
conversed for a little while with Sir William Kingston, 
concerning the events of his life, and terminated the 
conversation, by exclaiming in agony, "Had I but 
served my God as faithfully as I have served the king, 
he would not have given me over in my grey hairs; 
but this is the just reward that I must receive for my 
indulgent pains and study, not regarding my service to 
God, but only to my prince." His speech soon after- 
wards failed him, and he died the same night, about 
eight o'clock. 

His body was laid in an open coffin with the face 
micovered, .that every one who choose it might be 



20 STATESMEN. 

permitted to view him; and, early in the morning of 
St. Andrew's day, it was huried in one of the chapels 
of the ahbey. 

Mr, Allen, Thus fell one of the most ambitious men, 
and at the same time one of the ablest ministers of 
state that ever lived. In our short discussion it has 
been impossible to enter into his merits as a statesman, 
but it is well known, that during his administration 
England became a country formidable to all the powers 
of Europe. With respect to his private character, he 
was proud and haughty in prosperity; and for some 
time at least, abject and cowardly in adversity. His 
^ices were of the most disgraceful kind; but it is 
acknowledged that he was an encourager of learning, 
that he patronized and cultivated the polite and useful 
arts ; and was undoubtedly a liberal friend to the poor. 

Here Sir Charles terminated the discussion, and 
proposed that it should be resumed on the ensuing 
eveninff. 



THIRD EVENING. 

Edmund next proposed the life of Sir Thomas 
More; stating, that he had been chancellor in the 
reign of Henry the Eighth, and had succeeded Car- 
dinal Wolsey in that office. Frederic recollected that 
he was the son of Sir John More, a person of great 
reputation in the law ; and afterwards one of the judges 
of the court of Common Pleas : that he had been born 
in London in the year 1480 ; and that after the usual 
education in the University of Oxford, he had studied 
in one of the inns of court. To a remark from Mr. 
Allen, that he had not been very partial to the profes- 
sion of the law, Frederic replied that he had not, and 
that his propensity was strongly towards a monastic 



SIR THOMAS MORE. 21 

life. He said, that notwithstanding his father's anxious 
desire that he should become eminent at the bar, and 
the success which for some time had attended his 
practice in the law. More subsequently declined that 
profession ; and, till the death of Henry the Seventh, 
lived in retirement. 

Sir Charles, How was his time chiefly occupied in 
this retirement? 

Frederic, He applied himself with great assiduity to 
acquire a knowledge of the French language, history, 
mathematics, and general literature. 

Edmund, But early in the reign of Henry the Eighth 
he was induced to leave his retreat. His talents re- 
commended him to the notice of that monarch, by 
whom he was knighted, successively promoted to seve- 
ral high offices in the state; and at length, on the dis- 
grace of Cardinal Wolsey, to that of chancellor. 

Mr, Allen, Henry, fickle as he was in his general 
conduct, seems to have entertained a very sincere regard 
for Sir Thomas More. 

Edmund, He did ; for of all his servants none appear 
to have been treated by him with so much kindness 
and good humour as he. 

Frederic, The cheerfulness of his temper, and his 
general fund of wit, as well as of good sense, rendered 
his company in general highly acceptable to the king. 
At times, Henry would take him to the leads of his 
palace, to be instructed in the variety, the courses, and 
the motions of the heavenly bodies. He would also 
order him to be sent for in an evening to make himself 
and the queen merry at supper. But this after awhile 
occurred so often, that Sir Thomas, it is said, could not 
even once a month obtain perniission to pass an even- 
ing with his wife and children, whom he tenderly 
loved ; nor be absent from the court for two days suc- 
cessively. He consequently became uncomfortable at 
the restraint, and, by gradually dissembling his cheer- 
fulness, at last recovered the command of his leisure. 
Edmund. I have read that on one occasion, the 



22 STATESMEN. 

king came unexpectedly to his house at Chelsea and 
dined ; and, that after dinner, he walked with him in 
his garden for nearly an hour, having, during the whole 
time, his arm thrown carelessly round Sir Thomas's 
neck. 

Mr. Allen, An anecdote has been related concerning 
this familiarity, which shows the opinion that Sir Tho- 
mas More, even thus early, entertained of the character 
of Henry. As soon as the king was gone, Mr. Roper, 
son-in-law of Sir Thomas, remarked how happy he 
ought to esteem himself in being thus favoured by the 
king. '' It hank our Lord," he replied, '' I find his grace 
my very good lord indeed, and I believe he doth as 
singularly favour me as any subject within this realm. 
However, son Roper, I may tell you I have no cause 
to be proud thereof; for if my head would win him a 
castle in France, it would not fail to go." 

Lady Irivin, How severe a reflection on the fickle 
and unprincipled character of Henry was this ! 

Sir Charles. Mr. Allen has related an anecdote 
proving the correct judgment of Sir Thomas More : I 
will give you an extraordinary one of his presence of 
mind. He was one day standing on the leads of his 
bouse, when an insane person, without having been 
observed by any one, went up to him. The man, who 
was stout and of athletic form, was about to seize and 
throw him over the parapet, crying, '' leap, Tom, leap." 
Sir Thomas, unable to struggle with one so much 
stronger than himself, and having accidentally a little 
dog with him, had recourse to stratagem. ''Let us 
throw the dog down first,'^ said he, *' and see what sport 
that will make." The man assented, and the dog was 
thrown down. " Is not that fine sport ?" observed the 
chancellor; '' Let us now fetch him up and try it again." 
The man went down with that intention ; on which Sir 
Thomas fastened the door, and called for assistance. 

Edmund and Frederic. It was indeed an admirable 
contrivance. 

Sir Charles. Do you recollect, Edmund, how he is 



SIR THOMAS MORE. 23 

said to have conducted himself in his capacity of 
chancellor ? 

Edmund, I do, sir, perfectly. It was remarked, 
that Wolsey's pride had rendered him almost inacces- 
sible to any except persons in the higher ranks of life ; 
but of More it was said, that the meaner the persons 
were who came before him, the more attentively he 
heard their business, and the more readily he dis- 
patched it. His integi-ity as chancellor was universally 
acknowledged. 

Sir Charles, He was undoubtedly a man of great 
worth and integrity; and although he lived much at 
court, and was of cheerful and animated disposition, 
he nevertheless retained a deep sense of religion. Be- 
sides his private prayers, it was his constant custom to 
read the Psalms and the Litany with his wife and chil- 
dren every morning ; and at night, with his whole family, 
to read in his chapel the Psalms and Collects. It was 
his undeviating practice to spend some part of every 
day both in study and devotion. 

Mr. Allen. Notwithstanding all this, it must be ac- 
knowledged, even by greatest admirers, that he dis- 
played on many occasions an highly culpable hostility 
towards those who differed from him in religious 
opinions. He was a rigid Papist; and partook, to such 
an extent, in the prosecution of the reformers of the 
churcli, that he can only be excused on the principles 
of conscience, aiid his general good character. 

Wolsey had formerly given offence to Henry the 
Eighth on the subject of his divorce, for the purpose of 
marrying Anne Boleyn ; and now it was the misfortune 
of More to do the same. 

Frederic, He certainly must have been a very con- 
scientious man : for rather than assent to the wishes of 
the king in this particular, he voluntarily chose to sur- 
render all his dignities ; and, though he had a family 
wholly dependent upon him, had realized no fortune, 
and by this procedure was left almost without the 



24 STATESMEN. 

means of support, he retired, with unparalleled dig- 
nity, to domestic life in his house at Chelsea. 

Lady Irwin, I think he might have contrived to 
retain at least some of his offices, for the maintenance 
of his family. 

Sir Charles, Yes, my dear, and so did his wife, 
who was a worldly minded woman, and does not seem 
to have been a very polished one. *' Tilly, vally," said 
she to him on hearing his determination, **what will you 
do, Mr. More ? Will you sit and make goslings in the 
coals ? I would that I were a man, you should quickly 
see what I would do ! I would not be so foolish as to 
be ruled where I might rule." 

Lady Irwin, Indeed her language was not very ele- 
gant ; but what did Sir Thomas reply to so strange a 
rebuke ? 

Sir Charles, *' By my faith, wife," he said, '' I believe 
you speak truly, for I have never yet found you willing 
to be ruled f and immediately changed the subject of 
conversation. I ought to remark, that this was not Sir 
Thomas More's first wife, for with her he had at all 
times lived in the most cordial affection. 

Mr, Allen, It does not appear that his misfortunes 
terminated with the loss of his offices. 

Frederic, No, sir, that was but a prelude to his com- 
plete overthrow; and, at last, to his execution on a 
public scaffold. His enemies, for every man in so ele- 
vated a station must have enemies, now used all their 
influence to ruin him. Numerous accusations were 
brought against him; but the purity and integrity of 
his conduct were only rendered the more conspicuous 
the more minutely they were examined. At last he 
was accused of high treason, on the gi^ound that he 
had refused to take an oath respecting the succession 
to the crown, purposely worded in such a manner as to 
render it impossible for him conscientiously to take it. 

Mr, Allen, All this might easily have been avoided 
by the persons in power, and without the least injury 



SIR THOMAS MORE. 2.3 

to tke crown, but their express object in it was edec- 
tually to ruin oaie whom they feared tlie king's still 
existing partiality might be induced to reinstate. 

Lady Irwin. That was very wicked indeed. 

Frederic, He was now committed to the tower of 
London, and after havmg been imprisoned there many 
months, was tried, and condemned to suffer death as a 
traitor. 

Lady Irivin, But could the king, fickle as he w as in 
many particulars, suffer his former favourite, the gene- 
ral integrity of whose character was unimpeachable, 
so unfeelingly to be destroyed ? 

Frederic, Henry certainly was anxious to save his 
life, and from time to time sent to liim confidential 
persons, to induce him if possible to change his mind, 
under a promise, if he w^ould do so, of a free pardon. 
. Wearied out by their importunities, he at last told one 
of them that " he had changed it." The courtier 
hastened to the king with the news. Henry doubted 
the fact, and without delay sent to the tower to 
inquire in w^hat particulars Sir Thomas had changed 
his mind. He smiled and replied, that " he had in- 
tended to be shaved before he was executed, but that 
he w as now resolved his beard should share the same 
fate as his head." 

Sir Charles, Thus it appears that, even under the 
pressure of the most afflicting circumstances, the natu- 
ral cheerfulness of his disposition did not forsake him. 
Many proofs of this have been mentioned. 

Edmund, When he w as first committed to the tow er, 
the Ueutenant apologized that he was unable to accom- 
modate him in the mamier he w ished without incurring 
the displeasure of the king. " Master lieutenant,'' said 
Sir Thomas, " when I find fault with the entertain- 
ment you provide for me, do you turn me out ot* 
doors." 

Sir Charles. His wife visited him in prison; you 
recollect the tenor of one of their conversations. She 
now said she '' w as astonished that he, who had al\v civs 



2G STATESMEN. 

been reputed a wise man, should so play the fool as to 
be content to be shut up in a close and filthy prison 
with rats and mice, when he might enjoy hi» liberty 
and the king's favour, if he would but do as** all the 
bishops and other learned men had done :'' sTie told 
him that '* he had a good house to live in, and that if 
he pleased he might enjoy every comfort his heart 
could desire." He heard her patiently, and then 
asked, " whether the house he was now in were not 
as nigh to heaven as his own/" He told her that 
** if he were under ground but seven years, and came 
to his house again, he should find those in it who would 
bid him begone, and tell him it was none of his. Be- 
sides,'^ he said, " his stay in it was so uncertain, that 
as any man would be but a bad merchant who should 
put himself in danger to lose eternity even for a thou- 
sand years, so how much more if he were not sure to 
enjoy it even to the end of one day T 

Frederic, And he maintained the same cheerfulness 
of conduct at the scaffold which he had exhibited 
throughout his life. On ascending the stairs, he found 
them so weak and crazy that he was fearful of falling. 
He therefore addressed himself to the lieutenant for 
assistance. '' Pray, master lieutenant," said he, '' see 
me safe up, and as for my coming down I can then 
shift for myself." 

Sir Charles, But this was not all. 

Frederic, No, sir. A little while after he had 
finished his prayers he turned to the executioner, and 
observing him sad and dejected, told him to pluck up 
his spirits. *' Be not afraid, man," he said, '' to do 
your office ; but as my neck is short, take great care 
you do not strike awry for your own credit's sake." 
Then laying his head on the block, he desired the 
executioner to stay a moment until he had put aside 
his beard; for '' that," he observed, " had never com- 
mitted treason:" and his head was severed from his 
body at one blow. This event took place on the fifth 
of July, J 535, and in the fifty-fifth year of his age. 



SIR FRANCIS BACON. !>7 

Mr, Allen. As Sir Thomas More died under a settled 
Lope of immortality, he no doubt thought any unusual 
degree of sorrow and concern improper on such an 
occasiont as had nothing in it that could deject or 
terrify him. 

Sir Charles, Certainly ; and Mr. Addison has well re- 
marked on this subject, that what was only philosophy 
in him, would have been insanity in any one who did 
not resemble him in the natural cheerfulness of his dis- 
position, and in the sanctity of his life and manners. 

Mr. Allen, We cannot but revere the character of 
this amiable and excellent man, whose erudition, lite- 
rary acquirements and accomplishments, rendered him 
an ornament to his countiy ; and whose fortitude, piety, 
incorruptible integrity, and generous contempt of riches 
and external honours, have elevated him to a rank equal 
to that of the most celebrated characters of ancient 
Greece or Rome. There was only wanting to him a 
better cause, and more freedom from weakness and super- 
stition. As it was, he acted according to his principles 
and his own sense of duty : and though these may not 
accord with our notions of what is right, his con- 
stancy and integrity must at least be objects of our 
admiration. 

It was remarked, in conclus^ion, by Mr. Allen, that 
Sir Thomas More was the author of several works 
written in Latin; particularly a '' History of King: 
Richard the Third,'* and a kind of political romance 
entitled '' Utopia," both of which since his time have 
been translated into the English language. 



FOURTH EVENING. 

Edmund. The character of Sir Thomas More 

affords, in many particulars, an extraordinary contrast 

to that of Sir Francis Bacon; in those points 

especially in which he exhibited so marked a dis- 

c 2 



28 STATESMEN. 

interestedness of conduct, and so dignified a contempt 
of wealth. 

Sir Charles. We must ever lament that a man, who 
for his splendid talents and extensive learnmg has 
been styled the glory and the ornament of his age and 
nation, should so unworthily have degraded himself 
as he did. 

Edmund, Before we proceed with his character 
it may perhaps be desirable 1 should relate that he 
was the youngest son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord 
Keeper of the Great Seal in the reign of Queen Eliza- 
beth; that he was born in London in the month of 
January, 1560, and was educated in Trinity College, 
Cambridge. 

Sir Charles, Was there any thing remarkable re- 
specting his early years ? 

Edmund. When very young he displayed such un- 
usual indications of talent, and at the same time 
was so assiduous in his studies, that he became the 
admiration of all who knew him. Queen Elizabeth 
was so much delighted with the solidity of liis sense, 
and the gravity of his behaviour, that, in allusion to 
the office of his father, she often called him '' her 
young lord keeper." 

Sir Charles. In time he became a lawyer ; and, by 
his talents and application, attained great eminence at 
the bar. 

Edmund, True, sir; but this did not prevent him 
from studying politics and history, and attaining a 
knowledge of philosophy and general literature more 
extensive than that of any person of his own time. 

Mr, Allen. From all these ciixumstances, and from 
the great influence of his father, we might have been 
led to imagine that even early in life Bacon would 
have attained some elevated rank in the state. 

Edmund, This was not the case during the reign of 
Elizabeth. From her successor, James the First, how- 
ever, he received the honour of knighthood; and was 
successively appointed solicitor general, a judge of the 



SIR FRANCIS BACON. 20 

marshars court, attorney general, admitted a mem])er 
of the privy council, and in the year 1616 was pro- 
moted to the office of lord chancellor. 

Mr, Allen, As he was subsequently degraded from 
this high office, it may not be improper to consider a 
little what his conduct was before he attained it. 

Frederic, Edmund has formed a very unfavourable 
opinion of this great man ; but to me it appears that, 
previously to his having been made chancellor nothing 
more injurious has been laid to his charge than 
that, as most other persons would be, he was eager 
to obtain preferment. In many difficult circumstances 
he certainly acquitted himself to the general satis- 
faction. 

Edmund, Indeed, Frederic, I wish you would point 
out to me a few of the instances. . 

Frederic, Most willingly. When he was practising 
as a barrister in the reign of Elizabeth, and anxiously 
courting the royal favour, a person whose name was 
Haywarde, in the hope probably of exciting distur- 
bances in the country, wrote a book which purported 
to contain an account of the events of the first year 
of the reign of Henry the Fourth. The queen was of 
opinion that the contents were of a treasonable nature. 
She sent for Bacon to inquire of him whether passages 
in it could not be found, on which a charge of treason 
might be grounded. He frankly told her majesty he 
could discover nothing treasonable in the book ; though 
it contained much that was felonious. She eagerly 
asked him in what particulars. Bacon replied, that the 
'* author had committed very apparent theft: for he 
had stolen most of his sentences from Tacitus, the 
Roman historian." The queen was not satisfied with 
this; and afterwards imagining that Haywarde was 
not the writer of the book, but that it was the production 
of some person more powerful and more mischievous 
than he, proposed that by the torture of the rack he 
should be compelled to discover who the writer was. 
^' Nay, madam," Bacon promptly replied, *' do not 



30 STATESMEN. 

rack his person, but rack his style. Let him have 
pens, ink, and paper, and the help of books, and let 
him be enjoined to continue his story from the place 
where it leaves off, and I will undertake, by collating 
ilie styles, to judge whether he be the author or not." 

Edmund, I could wish to have other proofs than 
this. 

Frederic. In the very difficult and perplexed affairs 
of state during the reign of James the First, wheli he 
held the important office of attorney general, Sir 
Francis Bacon behaved with so much prudence and 
moderation, and with such impartiality and integrity 
both in that office and in parliament, that his con- 
duct does not appear to have been called in ques- 
tion even by his enemies; nor has malice itself ever 
uttered any thing to his reproach. At this time he 
was not only a favourite servant of the king, but was 
held in great esteem by the people. 

Edmund, I am not easy to be convinced of the 
integrity, during any part of his life, of a man, greatly 
as he has been esteemed on account of his talents, 
whose dishonesty has in some instances been proved, 
and whose arrogance towards his inferiors, and obse- 
quiousness toAvards his superiors, have in more than 
one instance been rendered evident. I will relate to 
you an anecdote on this subject. 

During the absence of James the First in Scotland, 
Sir Francis Bacon, then Lord Keeper of the Great 
Seal, as the head of the privy council, had the manage- 
ment of the public affairs. And how did he conduct 
himself? Assuming all the ^* pomp and circumstance 
of royalty " he took possession of his majesty's lodgings, 
gave audience in the great banquetting-house, and 
behaved with the utmost arrogance towards his brother 
counsellors ; he would not even open or read in public 
the letters of the Duke of Buckingham, the king's 
favourite, though these letters were stated to have re- 
quired dispatch ; and in some instances at least he did not 
('ondescend to answer them. But when informed that 



SIR FRANCIS BACON. 31 

James was on his return, how <lid he then demean 
himself? He attended two days in Buckingham's 
anti-chamber, sitting on a wooden chest, and on the 
duke's entrance he fell prostrate before him and even 
kissed his feet. Such was not the conduct of a man 
of honour and independent spirit. 

Frederic, I must confess I somewhat doubt the 
authenticity of your story, Edmund. But you shall 
proceed in his history, for the end of his political life 
was now approaching, precipitated by means in which 
he had himself a considerable share : he had advised 
his majesty to call a parliament for the purpose of 
examining into and granting redress of public abuses. 
This did not indicate any great consciousness of guilt 
on the part of the adviser. 

Edmund, In the course of the investigation, how- 
ever, the committee appointed by the parliament re- 
ported that charges of corruption had been brought 
against the Lord Chancellor, then Viscount St. Albans. 
It was alleged that he had taken bribes from different 
persons to the amount of several thousand pounds. 

Mr. Allen, What w as the object of these bribes ? 

Edmund. To influence his decisions as chancellor : 
he partly confessed the fact, and for the offence was 
deprived of his office, and sentenced by the house of 
peers to pay a fine of forty thousand pounds, be 
imprisoned in the tower of London during the king's 
pleasure, to be rendered incapable of any office or 
employment in the state, and never again to sit in 
parliament, nor come within the verge of the court. 

Will this sentence satisfy you as to the depravity of 
his conduct? 

Frederic, In a degree, certainly. But I must give 
some credit to the declaration, that his ruin was partly 
at least occasioned by aij excessive and, I acknow- 
ledge, improper indulgence which he showed towards 
his servants, who made a corrupt use of it; for the 
greater part of these bribes passed through their hands. 
Of this he at last became so sensible that during his 



32 STATESMEN. 

prosecution, M^hen passing through a room where they 
had been sitting, he said to them, on their standing up 
to j^eceive him, *' Sit down, my masters ; your rise has 
heen my fall." 

Edmund, Such may indeed be considered an exte- 
nuation of his crime ; though you must recollect,^ Fre- 
deric, that his connivance at the extortions of his servants 
was one of the charges exhibited against him; and 
his guilt cannot much be lessened by a supposition 
that the support of their extravagance led him to his 
other acknowledged acts of venality. 

Sir Charles. The downfall of this great man, under 
any circumstances, affords an important lesson to am- 
bition and extravagance. But, Edmund, proceed with 
his history. 

Edmund, The king soon released him from the 
tower, made a grant of his fine to trustees for his 
benefit, settled upon him a pension of .£1800 a year, 
and granted him a full pardon. But as he applied the 
greatest part of his income to the payment of debts 
contracted while he was in office, he lived in a de- 
plorable state of poverty in a lodging in Gray's Inn. 

Frederic, Notwithstanding this, many instances have 
been recorded of his greatness of mind and self-com- 
mand. Among others it is said, that having one day 
received from a friend an account of the failure of an' 
application to the king for some important favour, at 
the moment when he was dictating to his chaplain an 
account of some philosophical experiments, he calmly 
replied, '* Be it so !" Then dismissing his friend with 
thanks for his services, he turned to the chaplain, 
saying, *' Well, sir, if that business will not succeed, 
let us go on with this which is in our power;" and 
continued to dictate to him for several hours, without 
either hesitation of speech, or apparent interruption of 
thought. 

Mr, Allen, Sir Francis Bacon in his distress must 
have experienced great consolation from religion ; for 
he had been a Christian from conviction. From thi.>i 



SIR FRANCIS DACON. 33 

time his bodily infirmities increased. He now plainly 
perceived he had not much longer to live. By the severe 
winter of 1625 his health was greatly injured; but the 
spring reviving his spirits, he made a little excursion 
into tlie country, to try some experiments in natural 
philosophy. Here being suddenly taken ill, he ex- 
pired after a week's indisposition, on the ninth of 
April, 1626, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. 

Frederic, Mr. Addison has remarked, that Sir 
Francis Bacon possessed at once all those extraordi- 
nary talents which were divided amongst the greatest 
authors of antiquity ; and that we are at a loss which 
most to admire in his writings, strength of reason, 
force of style, or brilliancy of imagination. 

Sir Charles, Of what clid these writings consist? 

Frederic, Of dissertations, treatises, and essays on 
various subjects, philosophical, moral, political, and 
historical. They have all lately been collected and 
published, in ten volumes, in octavo. 

Mr, Allen, With respect to the character of Bacon, 
Ave must ever lament the moral defects that were inter- 
woven with his intellectual excellencies. But in fact 
the nobler his conceptions were, the more culpable 
was his obliquity of conduct ; and from this mortifying 
instance of human frailty, we ought to draw the in- 
structive inference, how greatly superior the pursuits 
of intellect are above those of ambition. Had Bacon 
been contented to be a philosopher, without aspiring 
to the honours of a statesman and a courtier, and 
had that sense of religion, which appears to have 
been prevalent in his mind, had its due weight over 
his conduct, he would beyond all comparison have 
been a greater, a better, and a happier man than he 
was. 



c 3 



34 STATESMEN. 



FIFTH EVENING. 

The next life proposed for discussion was that of 
Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, well known 
as the author of a *' History of the Great Rebellion," 
in the reign of Charles the First. 

Edmund, The different accounts that I have read 
concur in representing Lord Clarendon to have de- 
scended from an ancient family, and to have been 
born in Wiltshire in the year 1608. He was edu- 
cated first in the country, afterwards at Magdalen 
Hall, Oxford; and lastly, he studied the law under 
his uncle. Sir Nicholas Hyde, in Lincoln's Inn. 

Mr. Allen, Did he not suffer much from illness in 
the early part of his life ? 

Frederic, He did; but this eventually proved of 
benefit to him. 

Mr. Allen, In what respect? 

Frederic, His illness had, in some degree, been 
occasioned by dissipated habits that he had acquired 
whilst in college ; and during its continuance he was 
induced to reflect on the misery that would follow from 
indulgence in such habits, and at length to cease from 
them. 

Mr, Allen. That was wisely done. 

Frederic, And as vicious society had nearly proved 
his ruin, he was resolved for the future to associate only 
with the upright and the good ; and instead of always 
desiring, like men of low habits, to be at the head of 
their company, he was never so proud as when he 
was the lowest of his party. His wisdom was conspi- 
cuous in many particula):*s. 

Edmund. I think it was so when, on his business as 
a lawyer increasing to a great extent, he determined 
not to sacrifice to the desire of wealth those relaxations 
without which life would have lost its sweetest charms. 
Even when his mornings were occupied in courts of 
law, and most of his afternoons were engaged in pre- 



EARL OF CLARENDON. n/> 

paring for them, he still contrived to find time, in the 
evenings and night, for relaxation and the study of 
general literature. 

Sir Charles, He Avas fond of the enjoyments of 
social life. 

Edmund, Few persons appear to have been more so. 

Mr. Allen, Consequently he had the greater merit 
for resisting the temptations that might have led him 
to enter into them so deeply as to have broken in 
upon his studies. Many young men would have been 
induced, by similar inclinations with his, to have become 
dissipated, and thus to have ruined not merely their 
prospects in the world, but even their health and their 
happiness. 

Sir Charles. Another circumstance has been men- 
tioned to the credit of Mr. Hyde at this period of his 
life. 

Edmund, I know to what you allude, sir : that he 
never courted the company of the great, either by 
improper compliances or by degrading flatteries; that 
he scorned to dissemble his opinions, even where he 
knew they would prove unacceptable; but that he 
chose rather to acquire reluctant respect by liis honesty, 
than less creditable favour by servility. 

Mr, Allen, This was admirable conduct. But what 
on the other hand has been said? That he was proud, 
passionate, and disputatious 

Edmund, True; but allow me to conclude your 
sentence, by stating that, at length, he so completely 
subdued the infirmities of his temper, that he became 
distinguished both for courtesy and affability. 

Sir Charles, As Mr. Hyde had shortly to act a 
conspicuous part in the affairs of state, it is an impor- 
tant point that we should be informed what was his 
general character. 

Frederic, Of that T can inform you, sir. Himself 
a Christian from conviction, he was conscientiously 
zealous to promote the cause of Christianity. As to 
his peculiar tenets, he was firmly attached to the doc- 



36 STATESMEN. 

trines and worship of the established church. His 
integrity was unblemished, his friendship strong, and 
his personal attachment to Charles the First, aided by 
a conviction in his own mind of the justice of his 
cause, induced him to adhere to that monarch through 
all the reverses of his life. 

Sir Charles, After the death of the king what befel 
him? 

Frederic, Resident in Paris, he w^as reduced to 
great distress. He has assured us that one winter he 
had " neither clothes nor fire to preserve him from the 
severity of the season; that he wanted both clothes 
and shirts ; and that the Marquis of Ormond was in 
no better condition than himself" He further states, 
that they owed for all the meat they had eaten (at an 
obscure chop-house) for three months, to a poor woman 
who was no longer able to trust them ; and he adds, 
** my poor family at Antwerp, which it breaks my 
heart to think of, is in as sad a state as I am ; and the 
king (meaning Charles the Second) as bad as either 
of us." 

Mr, Allen, Notwithstanding this he continued to 
maintain the same upright conduct; and, while some 
of the king's followers were with their religion re- 
nouncing their country, and others in greater number 
were making their peace with the existing government, 
Mr. Hyde regarded each of these measures as de- 
grading and dishonest. His wife, with a magna- 
nimity worthy of such a husband, was, in the mean 
time, supporting herself and her family at Antwerp 
with the most rigid economy. 

Sir Charles, But why had he been separated from 
his family? 

Frederic, Because he had been in attendance on 
the young king ; but his presence becoming no longer 
requisite, he joined his family at Antwerp, and they 
afterwards removed to a house which they were al- 
lowed to occupy rent-free at Breda. His fidelity 
caused the king (though England was still in the power 



EARL OF CLARENDON. 37 

of an usurper) to appoint him Lord Chancellor, an 
office which he at first rejected, from a notion that, in 
the present state of affairs, it was unnecessary. 

Edmund, The death of Cromwell, with the various 
consequent revolutions, at length brought about the 
restoration of Charles the Second. The chancellor 
was now created a peer of the realm, by the title of 
Baron Hyde; and in the following year he received 
the further dignity of earl, and was styled Earl of 
Clarendon. 

Frederic, T am inclined to consider Lord Claren- 
don as, on the whole, a man of integrity ; but his 
temporizing conduct in the reign of Charles the Se- 
cond, relative to the dissipation of the court, was 
certainly very unbecoming. 

Sir Charles, Relate the particular circumstance, 
Frederic, on which you have founded this opinion. 

Frederic, Charles, it is well known, was a thought- 
less and dissipated character himself, and his principles 
soon infected so many of his nobility, that at length 
the excessive dissipation into which the court fell 
became the subject of public animadversion. Charles 
could not endure that his vices should be the current 
topic of discourse, and applied to the chancellor to 
devise some remedy for this growing evil. Clarendon 
agreed that it ought to be repressed ; and instead of 
assuring his master that the reformation of his own 
conduct was the most effectual mode of silencing the 
clamour of the people, complaisantly proposed two 
expedients. One of these was to suppress the coffee- 
houses where the subject was chiefly discussed, the 
other was to employ spies, who should accuse and 
bring to trial such persons as spoke the most licen- 
tiously. The privy council, however, wisely rejected 
them both. 

Edmund, I allow that his conduct on this occasion 
was very blameable, and am son'y for it; but before 
we entirely condemn him, we should know how far 



38 STATESMEN. 

the king compelled him to recommend these violent 
measures. All must acknowledge that at least the 
system pursued by the chancellor in the judicial ad- 
ministration of the country deserves the highest praise. 
He exhibited a love of liberty, and filled every depart- 
ment with men of known talents and character. Some 
learned and incorruptible judges, who had sat on the 
bench in the time of Cromwell, were again elevated to 
the same situation. 

Frederic, But what I have related is not all. Lord 
Clarendon at least gave his assent to a very rigorous 
and tyrannical measure against the clergy, by imposing 
upon them an oath that '* in their judgment no oppres- 
sion nor cruelty on the part of the sovereign could 
justify his subjects in taking arms against his autho- 
rity." 

Sir Charles. And what, Frederic, was the conse- 
quence of this? 

Frederic. That more than two thousand conscien- 
tious ministers, refusing to take the oath, were expelled 
from their benefices. 

Edmund. But the whole blame of this measure 
ought not to be imputed to Clarendon ; and if it w ere, 
we cannot easily forget that those who preceded him 
in power, had themselves set the example by expelling 
a great number of conscientious clergymen, who did not 
choose to submit to the presbyterian discipline. Permit 
me further to observe, that in Clarendon's conduct we 
can in no instance discover the slightest principle of 
selfishness ; and we must acknowledge that his actions 
at least were intended for the public good. Though his 
own fortune was originally inconsiderable, and though 
it had greatly suffered in the late commotions, he could 
not without the utmost difficulty be prevailed with to 
accept of any grants for its reparation. 

Mr. Allen. It has been asserted that the king at one 
period entertained so high an opinion of the services 
of Clarendon, that he used to direct the privy comicil 



EARL OF CLARENDON. 30 

to be summoned in this minister's bed-room, when 
alflicted with the gout, rather than lose the benefit of 
his advice in the management of pubUc affairs. 

Edmund, Such appears to have been the case; but 
Clarendon had soon to experience how precarious the 
favours of so unprincipled a monarch were. The mar- 
riage (without his knowledge) of his daughter to the 
Duke of York, afterwards James the Second, first 
gave offence to the king. A breach was thus opened 
for his enemies to prejudice Charles against him on 
other grounds; and his fall was now nearly as rapid 
as that of any of his predecessors in office had been. 
He was compelled to resign his situation of chancellor ; 
and, to avoid an impeachment by the house of com- 
mons, was advised to escape to the continent. This he 
did, and an act of parliament was passed banishing 
him for ever from the British dominions. 

Sir Charles, Do you recollect the very absurd man- 
ner in which the enemies of Clarendon contrived to 
prejudice the king against him? 

Frederic, I do. The personal behaviour of the 
chancellor was accompanied by a gravity, and in some 
degree by a haughtiness of manner which operated, 
in many respects, as a constraint upon the licentious- 
ness of the court. He sometimes presumed to advise 
the king respecting the impropriety of his conduct. 
The courtiers in consequence are known to have said 
to him, in several instances, whilst Clarendon was 
passing, '^ There goes your majesty's schoolmaster.'^ 
The Duke of Buckingham often mimicked the chan- 
cellor in the presence of the king, walking in a stately 
manner witli a pair of bellows before him, to represent 
the purse in which the great seal was kept ; and 
Colonel Titus at the same time carrying a fire-shovel on 
his shoulder for the mace. This absurd merriment 
delighted the silly monarch ; and, disgraceful as it was 
to his judgment, he appears to have been first led by 
it to desert perhaps the most faithful and upright 
counsellor he ever possessed. 



40 STATESMEN. 

Mr. Allen. We are now come to tlie close of his 
life. 

Frederic. Clarendon retired into France, and after 
having lived in various parts of that country, at last 
fixed his residence at Montpelier, where he completed 
his '' History of the Rebellion,'' and drew up those 
memoirs of his private views and transactions which 
have thrown so much important light upon the inci- 
dents and individuals of those times. After awhile 
he quitted Montpelier, and went to Rouen, where he 
died, in the month of December, 1674, and the sixty- 
third year of his age. 

Edmund. What, on the whole, can we say respect- 
ing the character of Lord Clarendon? 

Sir Charles. That he was unquestionably a lover of 
truth, and a sincere friend to the free constitution of his 
country : that he defended that constitution in parlia- 
ment with zeal and energy ; and on the other hand, 
that he opposed with equal determination those con- 
tinually increasing demands of the parhament, which 
appeared to him to threaten the existence of the monarchy 
itself; desirous if possible to conciKate the mainte- 
nance of public liberty, with the preservation of public 
peace. His chief failing seems to have been too 
entire devotion to a prince who did not deserve his 
attachment. 

His History of the Rebellion, which comprises one 
of the most candid accounts that ever was v>ritten of 
events that have occurred during the life-time of the 
writer, is an honourable proof of his talent. It does 
not contain a dry detail of facts, or a minute and cir- 
cumstantial account of persons, times, or places, but 
by the incidental lights which it throws upon them, it 
makes us acquainted, as it were, with the persons 
themselves of whom it speaks. Lord Clarendon was 
decidedly a party writer, but his representations are, 
for the most part, fair and moderate ; and a pecuUar air 
of probity runs through his whole work. 



KARL OF CHATHAM. 41 



SIXTH EVENING. 



Edmund this evening stated, that much as he had 
admired^ the character of Lord Clarendon, there had 
lived since his time another statesman of equal inte- 
grity, and of still greater talent. He alluded to the 
late William Pitt, Earl of Chatham. In 
reply to a question from his sister, Edmund said he 
was the second son of Robert Pitt, Esq. of Boconnoc, 
in Cornwall, and that he had been born on the fifteenth 
of November, 1708. He further observed that he had 
been educated, on the foundation at Eton, and after- 
wards as a gentleman commoner at Trinity College, 
Oxford. 

Frederic. Lord Chatham does not appear to have 
distinguished himself in early life as a scholar : he was 
certainly not a good Grecian. 

Mr, Allen, True : but this must not be attributed to 
any disinclination for study, but rather to his having, ' 
even when a youth, been so severely afflicted with the 
gout that at last he was compelled to quit the univer- 
sity without taking a degree. In the hope of alle- 
viating in some measure this distressing complaint, he 
was ordered to make a tour of the continent. Accom- 
panied by a private tutor he consequently went through 
various parts of France and Italy ; but he almost in- 
variably employed his leisure hours in the cultivation 
and improvement of his mind. 

Edmund, On his return he entered into the army, 
and became an officer in a regiment of horse ; but he 
early discovered that ** the senate and not the camp, 
the cabinet and not the field," were the scenes for 
which his abilities were best calculated. He soon 
obtained a seat in parliament. 

Sir Charles, And what, Edmund, was his conduct 
in parliament? 

Edmund, He usually voted in opposition to the 
measures of j2fovernment. 



42 STATESMEN. 

Sir Charles, In whose reign was this ? 

Ed^^.vMd, The reign of George the Second, and 
about cvverity years before the present king came to 
the throne. Sir Robert Walpole was then prime 
minister ; and he with asingular littleness of mind sought 
to punish the aspiring youth by depriving him of his 
commission in tae army. But so far was this conduct 
from having had the effect which he expected, that 
it only tended to raise Mr. Pitt in the estimation of 
the public; and he soon afterwards became a leader 
or principal speaker in the house of commons on the 
side of the opposition. 

Mr, Allen. The minister often felt the severity of 
his reproofs. One day in particular Horace Walpole, 
the brother of Sir Robert, having illiberally attacked 
Mr. Pitt, for what he termed the presumptuous man- 
ner in which so young a man had ventured to address 
that assembly, he replied, '* Sir, the crime of being a 
young man, with Avhich the honourable gentleman has 
charged me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor 
deny ; but content myself with hoping I may be one 
of those whose follies cease with their youth, and not 
of that number who are ignorant in spite of expe- 
rience. Whether youth can be imputed to any man 
as a reproach I will not presume to determine; but 
1 will say that age becomes justly contemptible if the 
opportunities which it brings have been passed without 
improvement, and if vice prevails when the passions 
have subsided." He proceeded to considerable length, 
and in a strain of eloquent invective that has seldom 
been equalled. 

Sir Charles. On a change of ministry, in the year 
1746, Mr. Pitt came into office, and was appointed a 
member of the privy council, and treasurer and pay- 
master general of the army. 

Mr. Allen. In this situation he is said to have dis- 
played great disinterestedness. Many of his prede- 
cessors in office obtained considerable emoluments in 
addition to their regular salary, by the large balances 



KARL OF CHATHAM. 43 

of public money in their hands ; but Mr. Pitt is be- 
lieved, on no occctsion, to have derived emolument 
from them. He did not long continue in office. 

Edmund, He opposed some of the measures of the 
crown, and was dismissed; but his talents and his 
integrity were such tliat, in 1756, on the forming of a 
new administration, he was appointed one of the secre- 
taries of state. 

Sir Charles. What was the consequence of this 
arrangement ? 

Edmund, A degree of vigour and activity through 
every department of the state which astonished the 
people, and excited consternation in the enemies of 
the country. England, under the administration of 
Mr. Pitt, was raised from a state of depression and 
disgrace to the highest pitch of glory. Not a ship 
nor a man were suffered to remain unemployed ; and 
Europe, Asia, and Africa, all soon felt the influence of 
liis talents. 

Frederic, A singular instance of the promptness 
and activity of Mr. Pitt has been mentioned, in the 
fitting out of a fleet for an expedition on foreign ser- 
vice. He directed that the ships which were requi- 
site sliould all be equipped and in readiness in three 
weeks. Lord Anson, who was then First Lord of 
the Admiralty, stated that it was impossible to comply 
with this order ; that the ships could by no means be 
ready in so short a time ; and that he wished to know 
where they were going, that he might victual them 
accordmgly. Mr. Pitt replied, that '' if tli« ships 
were not at their destination by the time he had men- 
tioned, he would lay the matter before the king, and 
impeach his lordship in the house of commons.'* 
This spirited menace caused an activity to which the 
country had hitherto been unaccustomed, and the ships 
were all prepared and in perfect order by the time 
appointed. 

Edmund, In the duties of his office Mr. Pitt was 



I 



44 STATESMEN. 

exact and diligent beyond example. He gave up his 
whole time to business, and none' to parade. Well 
informed of the practicability of his orders before they 
were issued, he was always peremptory in insisting 
upon the execution of them. 

M7\ Allen, It does not appear that any minister 
possessed more of the public confidence than Mr. Pitt. 
For a considerable time opposition was scarcely even 
heard of. Nearly all his projects proved successful; 
so that almost the whole navy of France was annihi- 
lated, and scarcely a colony or a settlement was left to 
her in any part of the world. 

Edmund. After the accession of his present majesty 
a misunderstanding took place which induced Mr. 
Pitt to retire from office; but his services were ac- 
knowledged and rewarded by his lady being created 
Baroness of Chatham, and himself receiving an annuity 
of ^3000 ; which was to be continued during his own 
life, that of his lady, and that of his eldest son. 

Sir Charles, This excellent statesman was at all 
times a determined opposer of arbitrary measures; 
and when, in the year 1764, the question of general 
warrants, as it was called, was agitated in the house 
of commons, Mr. Pitt maintained their illegality with 
unusual energy. He asserted that " by such warrants 
the most innocent person might be dragged from his 
bed, and committed to prison; that all his secrets 
might be exposed, and his papers converted into evi- 
dences against himself. And how," he continued, 
'^ shall this be reconciled with the British constitu- 
tion ? It is a maxim of our law that ' every English- 
man's house is his castle.' Not that it is surromided 
by walls and battlements : it may be a straw-built 
shed; every wind of heaven may whistle round it; 
all the elements of nature may enter in ; but the king - 
cannot, the king dare not enter/' 

Mr, Allen. There was a freedoin and an honesty in 
his speeches which must have excited the admiration 



EARL OF CH/VTHAM. 45 

of every independent hearer; and which would never 
have heen tolerated in an arbiti^arj government. 

Edmund, We find him again in office during the 
administration of the Marquis of Rockingham. He 
was now removed to the house of peers, having been 
created Earl of Chatham, and appointed to the situa- 
tion of Lord Privy Seal: this, which was the last 
public office that he filled, he relinquished in the month 
of November, 1768. He was now so much tormented 
by the gout, as often to be rendered incapable of public 
business. But in the intervals of his disorder, and 
sometimes even under its visitation, he exerted himself 
in parliament with astonishing vigour. He strongly 
reprobated the measures that produced the American 
war. 

Sir Charles, It was on the 8tli of April, 1778, and 
on a motion for the dismissal of ministers, after the 
American colonies had succeeded in establishing their 
independence, that he attended in parliament for the 
l^st time. Perhaps, Frederic, you can relate the ac- 
count of his death. 

Frederic, I will endeavour to do so. He entered 
the house in an extremely feeble and emaciated state, 
leaning on two friends, and wrapped in flannel. His 
visage was so pale and shrunk that he looked like a 
dying man, though there never was seen a figure of 
greater dignity. He rose from his seat with slowness 
and difficulty, leaning on his crutches, and supported 
under the arms by his friends. The purport of his 
speech is well known. The reverence, the attention, 
the stillness of the house while he spoke, was most 
affecting. At first he seemed to labour under a diffi- 
culty of utterance, occasioned by his severe indispo- 
sition ; but as he grew warm in the debate, his voice 
rose, and was as harmonious as ever. He recited the 
whole history of the American war; of all the mea- 
sures to which he had objected, and all the evils he 
^A predicted; and declared ^'that he would rather be 
in his grave than see the lustre of the British throne 



46 STATESMEN. 

tarnished, the dignity of the empire disgraced, the 
glory of the nation sunk to such a degree as it must be 
under the acknowledgment by Great Britain of Ame- 
rican independence." The Duke of Richmond ad- 
dressed the house in reply; and Lord Chatham rose 
to answer him. His whole soul seemed agitated ; but 
his feelings proved too strong for his debilitated con- 
stitution to sustain: his strength failed, and he fell 
backwards in a convulsive fit. He was instantly sup- 
ported by those that were near him, and every one 
was anxious to yield him assistance. The windows 
were tlrrown open to give him air; the house ad- 
journed, and he was carried to the residence of a Mr. 
Sergent in Downing-street. From thence he was re- 
moved to his seat at Hayes in Kent, and was placed 
in his bed, from which he never afterwards rose. He 
died on the eleventh of May, 1778, in the seventieth 
year of his age, and about a month after his attack in 
the house of lords. 

Mr, Allen, The remains of Lord Chatham, in testi- 
mony of the eminent services he had rendered to his 
country, were interred at the public expense in 
Westminster Abbey, where a monument was after- 
wards erected to his memory. An annuity of <£4000 
was also granted to his heirs. 

Sir Charles. I will read you the character that 
Lord Chesterfield has drawn of this venerable states- 
man : it appears to have been the result of close and 
candid observation. '* His private life was stained by 
no vice, nor sullied by any meanness. All his senti- 
ments were liberal and elevated. His ruling passion 
was an unbounded ambition, which when supported 
by great abilities, and crowned with great success, 
makes what the world calls * a great man.' He 
was haughty, imperious, impatient of contradiction, 
and overbearing; qualities which too often accom- 
pany, but always clog great ones. He had man- 
ners and address; but one might discern through 
them too great a consciousness of his own superior 



EARL OF CHATHAM. 47 

talents. He was a most agreeable and lively com- 
panion in social life, and had such a versatility of 
wit that he would adapt it to all sorts of conversation. 
He had also a most happy turn for poetry, but he 
seldom indulged, and more seldom avowed it. His 
eloquence was of every kind, and he excelled in the 
argumentative, as well as the declamatory way. But his 
invectives were teirible, and uttered with such energy 
of diction, and with such dignity of action and counte- 
nance, that he intimidated those who were the most 
willing, and the best able to encounter him." 

Mr. Allen. Lord Chatham appears to have enter- 
tained correct sentiments on the subject of religion. 
In one of his letters to his nephew (afterwards Lord 
Camelford), whilst a student in the University of Cam- 
bridge, he says, '* If you are not right toward God, 
you can never be so toward man. ^ Remember thy 
Creator in the days of thy youth,' is big with the 
deepest w^isdom. ' The fear of the Lord is the be- 
ginning of wisdom ; and an upright heart, that is 
understanding.' This is eternally true, whether the 
wits and rakes of Cambridge allow it or not : nay, I 
must add of this religious wisdom, * her w ays are 
ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.' 
Hold fast, therefore, by this sheet-anchor of happi- 
ness, religion : you will often want it in the times of 
most danger, the storms and tempests of life. Re- 
member, that the essence of religion is a heart void of 
offence toward God and man; not subtile speculative 
opinions, but an active vital principle of faith !" 



48 STI^TESMEN. 



SEVENTH EVENING. 

Sir Charles, Who have we next for discussion, Fre- 
deric ? 

Frederic, Three of the most eminent statemen of 
modern times, Mr. Burke, Mr. Pitt (the son of Lord 
Chatham), and Mr. Fox. 

3Ir, Allen, Then I suppose we shall have a some- 
what animated debate. 

Edmund, I know not how that may be, sir; but it 
is certain that Frederic and I differ very much respect- 
ing the merits and character of all three ; but particu- 
larly respecting those of Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox. 

Sir Charles, I have no objection to that. We shall 
soon hear w hat you each have to say. And first we 
must speak of Mr. Burke; he having lived somewhat 
earlier in point of time to the other two. As usual, 
Frederic, we must inquire respecting his birth and 
education. 

Frederic, Edmund Burke was an Irishman, and 
born on the first of January, 1730, in the city of 
Dublin, where his father was an attorney of extensive 
practice, and great respectability. He was sent when 
young to an academy at Ballytore, near Carlow. 
Here, under the tuition of an excellent master, he 
devoted himself to study with great ardour and in- 
dustry; and was soon known as the best capper of 
verses in the whole school. 

Lady Irwin, Capper of verses, Frederic, what is that? 

Mr, Allen, The capping of verses is repeating any 
one line out of the classics, and following it by another 
beginning with the same letter Avith which the former 
line ended. This is sometimes carried on, in the way of 
literary contest between two boys, and causes an emu- 
lation for reading which is above the ordinary line of 
duty, and at tlie same time calls out and strengthens 
the powers of the memory. It seems that Burke 
not only took the lead in this, but in all general exer- 



EDMUND BURKK. 49 

cises; and was considered the l)est Greek and Latin 
scholar in the school. 

Frederic. I was amused with an anecdote which 
shows the gi*eat versatility of his genius even when 
very young. The boys were one day permitted to 
have a holiday to go to the assizes at Carlow, and see 
the procession; but the condition of this holiday was, 
that the senior boys should each write in Latin verse 
an account of what they had seen. Burke not only 
wrote his own, but the exercises of several of the 
other boys. One of them however applied too late 
to allow of his bestowing any serious attention on his 
exercise, particularly as nearly all his ideas had been 
exhausted, by the multiplicity of the exercises he had 
written. He tidied to obtain some hints from the youth 
in question, but found he conld recollect few other 
objects than a fat piper, in a brown coat. Burke 
accordingly began in doggrel Latin, 

" Piper erat fattus qui hrownum tegmen liabehat :'' 
and went on with great fluency through many verses 
in the same style. 

Edmund, In his sixteenth year he was admitted a 
scholar of Trinity College, Dublin. Here, amongst 
other studies, he paid particular attention to those of 
moral philosophy , logic, and metaphysics; but while 
employed in obtaining knowledge to render himself 
useful, he did not neglect the means of making himself 
agreeable, in the intercourse of life. 

Mr, Allen, To the learning of a scholar he added 
the manners of a gentleman ; and he became as much 
admired for his pleasing conversation and habits of 
life, as for the force and brilliancy of his genius and 
the depth of his knowledge. 

Sir Charles. How long did Mr. Burke continue to 
reside in Ireland? 

Edmund, Only until he was twenty-three years of 
age. He then came to London, and was admitted a 
student of the Middle Temple ; where, as in every 
other situation, he studied with unremitting diligence. 

D 



50 STATESMEN. 

Mr. Allen, It is much to his credit that, during the 
whole of his youth, he was eminent for temperance. 
He indulged in no vicious propensities, and was an 
example to others of the advantages that may be 
derived from united steadiness and application. 

Frederic, For some time after he was settled in 
London, he occupied his leisure hours in writing for 
different periodical works ; and his literary fame is said 
to have been completely established by his publication, 
in 1757, of a work entitled *' An Essay on the Sub- 
lime and Beautiful." In the following year he pro- 
jected the plan of an *' Annual Register" of the civil, 
political, and literary transactions of the times. This 
work was established and carried on for several years, 
either by Burke himself, or under his immediate in- 
spection. 

Edmund, How delightful must have been the society 
of a person so well informed as Mr. Burke. 

Mr, Allen, He was indeed the admiration and de- 
light of every company. Dr. Johnson used to say 
of him, that he was the only man whose common con- 
versation corresponded with the genei^al fame he had 
obtained by his writings. " Take up whatever topic 
you please," he observed, " Burke is always ready to 
meet you. If a man were by chance to go at the 
same time with Burke under a shed, he would say, 
^ this is an extraordinary man ;' if he should go into 
a stable and see his horse drest, the ostler would say, 
'we have had an extraordinary man here to-day.'" 
Dr. Johnson also asserted, ''that he never was in com- 
pany with Burke without coming away wiser than when 
he went." 

Frederic, The time was now approaching when the 
talents of Mr. Burke were to be displayed on the great 
political theatre. The Marquis of Rockingham, who 
was at the head of the administi-ation, appointed him 
his private secretary; and, not long after this, he was 
elected a member of parhament. Here he exhibited 
not only great powers of eloquence, but an astonisliing 



EDiMUND BURKE. 51 

fuiid of information on every topic tliat he undertook 
to illustrate. He was soon considered at the head of 
tlie Rockingham party in the house of commons; and 
his great assiduity in preparing business for discussion, 
joined to his talents for speaking and writing, ftdly 
qualified him for whatever he had to perform. 

Edmund, Notwithstanding this, so extremely ver- 
satile was his mind, that, in the intervals of business, 
he could amuse himself with playing at tee-to tum or 
push-pin with children; or with entering intp their 
llioughts and feelings, in the histories of Tom Thumb 
and Jack the Giant-killer. 

Sir Charles, It has been remarked, that, in these 
pastimes, he would often speak for a considerable 
while in such a way that no one would imagine him 
more than an ordinary man, good humouredly amusing 
his young auditors; when perhaps some observation 
or suggestion might call his attention, on which a re- 
mark of the most profound wisdom would escape him, 
and then he would return to his tee-totum. 

Edmund, Part of the summer he frequently devoted 
to visiting his native country, or occupied in travelling 
through different parts of England. He sometimes 
went in stage-coaches, and was always found a most 
agreeable companion. He knew the history, physical 
and moral, of every place through which he passed, 
and never failed to entertain his fellow-ti^avellers with 
pleasing or useful anecdotes or remarks, according to 
their several capacities or inclinations. 

Frederic, A lady that once came in a coach with 
him from Yorkshire, without knowing, at the time, who 
he was, said that he astonished the passengers by his 
great fund of local knowledge, and by the anecdotes 
with which his conversation was mterspersed; and 
that they all concurred in thinking him the most en- 
tertaining man they had ever travelled with. 

Sir Charles, The ardent thirst which Mr. Burke had 
for the attainment of knowledge showed itself on 
almost every occasion. 

D 2 



52 . STATESMEN. 

Frederic. Pray, Mr. Allen, repeat the story tliat you 
once told me of his visiting the collieries. 

Mr, Allen. An Irish trader happening to be in a 
company where Dr. Johnson and some other friends of 
Burke were present, he was so much delighted to hear 
them speak in praise of his countryman, whom he had 
heard to be the wisest man in England, that he said 
to the doctor, ^' Give me leave, sir, to tell you some- 
thing of Mr. Burke." He thus began : '' Mr. Burke 
went to see the collieries in a distant province ; and he 
would go down, sir, into the bowels of the earth (in a 
bag), and he w ould examine every thing : he went in a 
bag, sir, and ventured his life for knowledge ; but he 
took care of his clothes, that they should not be spoiled^ 
for he went doAvn in a bag." 

Lady Irwin. As Mr. Burke was so admirable a 
companion abroad, I am somewhat curious to know 
his conduct, and usual style of living in his own 
house. 

Mr. Allen. He resided much at his seat near Bea-^ 
consfield, in Buckinghamshire, about twenty-three miles 
from London; and was remarkable both in town and 
country for his hospitality — an hospitality of real 
benevolence. There was no parade of style, no osten- 
tatious display of side-boards, no sumptuous enter- 
tainments : but every thing was plain, substantial, and 
agreeable; with kind looks, kind manners, and a hearty 
welcome. When in London he would often insist on 
eight or ten persons of his acquaintance going home 
with him to eat mutton-chops or beef-steaks; and, on 
such occasions, he literally gave such dinners, to which 
indeed, with the zest of his company, few could be 
found equal. He loved a cheerful glass of wine, but 
never drank to excess. His conversation was always 
so animated and so flowing, and his spirits so exhi- 
larated, that the wine could make no addition. 

Sir Charles Irwin here remarked, that, although it 
was probable he might somewhat disappoint the ex- 
pectations of the young gentlemen, yet, as the con- 



EDMUND BURKE. 53 

versation would be lengthened beyond its due bounds, 
if the political character of Mr. Burke were to be 
discussed, he should merely relate, and without com- 
ment, the course of his political career. 

On the dissolution of the ministry of which the 
Marquis of Rockingham was at the head, Mr. Burke 
(he observed) was disengaged from business, but, for 
some time, was a formidable opponent to the subse- 
quent administrations. The measures of the' adminis- 
tration in which Lord North was prime minister, were 
uniformly opposed by him, particularly those which 
were adopted with regard to America. The most 
brilliant of his speeches were made in the course of 
the American war ; during which, however, it is almost 
impossible to reconcile his principles with those that 
he adopted on a snbsequent occasion. The ministry 
was dissolved in 1782, the Marquis of Rockingham 
was again placed at the head of the government, and 
Mr. Burke was made a member of the privy council, 
and appointed paymaster-general of the forces. In 
this office he did not continue long; for the marquis 
died in the same year, and Mr. Burke once more fell 
into the ranks of opposition. The act for which he 
has been principally blamed, was his coming into 
office for a little while in the following year, under 
Lord North, all of whose measures he had formerly 
l^rofessed to hold even in abhorrence. This ministry 
soon failed ; and on the late Mr. Pitt, the son of Lord 
Chatham, being made prime minister, Burke was 
again in opposition. Whilst in opposition he was 
appointed to conduct the impeachment of Warren 
Hastings, Esq. governor general of Bengal, who had 
been accused of various crimes, said to have been 
committed in that country; and in the management of 
this trial, Mr. Burke occasionally exhibited traits of 
harsh and illiberal behaviour, which are entirely at 
variance with his general character in private life. 
The most important era in his political history was 
that of the French Revolution. As early as the year 



.54 - STATESMEN. 

1772, Mr. Burke had foreseen the probable overthrow 
of religion and government in France ; and so strongly 
impressed was ke of the danger that might thereby 
occur to surrounding nations, that he could not avoid 
inti'oducing his sentiments on the subject in the house 
of commons. When the Revolution actually broke 
out, he predicted that torrent of anarchy and infidelity 
wliich for many years threatened to overwhelm the 
whole of civilized Europe. In consequence of this 
he published his celebrated '' Reflections on the French 
Revolution f a work which roused the attention of the 
people, and excited a controversy which continued for 
some years afterwards. Mr. Burke now associated 
with Mr. Pitt ; and, though neither soliciting, nor invi- 
ted into, any public station, he continued to write, 
from time to time, memorials and remarks on the state 
of France, and on the alliance of the great powers of 
Europe that was formed against the new order of 
things in that distracted country. After this the king 
assigned to him a handsome pension for life. 

Here Sir Charles ended. Edmund and Frederic 
thanked him for his recital, and he requested the 
former to proceed with the private history of Mr. 
Burke. 

After the acquittal of the governor general of Bengal, 
said Edmund, Mr. Burke retired from the bustle of pub- 
lic life. He vacated his seat in parliament, and resided 
almost wholly at his house near Beaconsfield. He now 
experienced a heavy domestic affliction in the death of 
his son. From the beginning of June, 1797, his own 
health rapidly declined; and, on the eighth of July, 
whilst one of his friends, assisted by a servant, was 
carrying kim into another room, he faintly uttered, 
'* God bless you,'^ fell back, and instantly expired, in 
the sixty-eiglith year of his age. 

Mr, Allen. You have been too concise, Edmund, 
in terminating the career of one of the most extraor- 
dinary men that have lived in modern times. Though 
the health of Mr. Burke dechned so rapidly, that he 



EDMUND BURKE. o5 

plainly foresaw the near approach of his death, his 
mind was uncniharrassed, and his understanding ope- 
rated with undiminished force and uncontracted range. 
He contiimed regularly to perform the duties of reli- 
gion and benevolence. His body was in a state of 
constant and perceptible decay, but this was unat- 
tended by pain. The lamp of life was consuming fast, 
but was not violently extinguished. During his illness 
he frequently declared, what all his intimates well 
knew before, his thorough belief of the Christian 
religion, and his veneration for true Christians of all 
persuasions ; but his own preference of the articles of 
the Church of England, In that mode of faith he had 
been educated, and in that he persevered through life. 
His end was suited to the simple greatness of mind 
which he had displayed through life ; it was every way 
unaflfected; without levit}, without ostentation, full of 
natural grace and dignity. He appeared neither to 
wish for, nor to dread, the approaching hour of his 
dissolution. The last subjects of conversation with 
his friends were the inculcations of practical wisdom 
(juiding to temporal and eternal happiness. 



EIGHTH EVENING. 

SIR CHARLES IRWIN. — EDMUND. — FREDERIC. 

Sir Charles, We have to lament that Mr. Allen's 
engagements will prevent him from attending our con- 
versations either to-night or to-morrow. The benefit 
of his remarks will thus be lost respecting the cha- 
racters we shall next discuss. We must, however, pro- 
ceed as w^ell as we can without him. You last night 
said you were prepared with the life of Mr. Pitt. 
I may disappoint you, as I have already done with 
respect to Mr. Burke, by debarring political discussion, 
and hy taking the statement of Mr. Pitt's political life 



% 



t/d STATESMEN, 

upon myself. I gave you the reason for tliis procedures 
last night; that I may prevent the conversation from 
becoming too much extended. We derive, as I coii- 
ceive, much more real instruction from the private 
than the public lives of most persons. 

Frederic, We shall willingly assent to any arrange- 
ment you may propose, sir. 

Sir Charles. Well then ; Who was Mr. Pitt? 
Edmund, I will tell you, sir. William Pitt, the 
man who rescued his country from anarchy during 

the mad career of • 

Frederic, Stay, stay, Edmund. Sir Charles has 
forbidden our entering upon politics, and you set out 
with a direct political panegyric. I must request that 
you be called to order. 

Sir Charles. Frederic is perfectly right; you must 
ansv»^rtothe question I asked, without comment. 

Edmund, I beg your pardon, sir. Mr. Pitt was 
the second son of the Earl of Chatlipm, whose life was 
the subject of our conversation two nights ago. He 
was born on the twenty- eighth of May, 1759. 

Sir Charles. And his education, be so good as to 
inform me respecting that. 

Edmund. He was at first instructed by a private 
tutor ; but, as may easily be supposed, his illustrious 
father superintended his progress with a vigilant eye. 
He marked, Avith anxious solicitude, the progressive at- 
tainments of a mind, which, at a very early period of 
life, displayed strong indications of future excellence. 

Frederic. T have h^en informed that, to accustom 
bis son to that faculty of speaking which had been a 
principal means of his own eminence, Lord Chatham 
frequently made him declaim on a given topic, from 
the elevation of a chair or table. 

Sir Charles. This T believe was the case. His 
progress in learning was so great that he was early sent 
to the university. 

Edmund. Yes, sir, at an age when, with the gene- 
rality of young men, much remains to be learned at 



WILLIAM PITT. 57 

school. As soon as he had completed his fourteenth 
year, Mr. Pitt was entered at Pembroke Hall, Cam- 
bridge ; where he was fortunate enough to engage for his 
tutor, Dr. Prettyman, the present Bishop of Lincoln. 

Sir Charles, His conduct in college, was it not such 
as to afford an useful example to other young men? 

Frederic, During his residence there he was dis- 
tinguished alike for the closeness of his application, 
and the success of his efforts to render himself master 
of all those subjects to which his studies were particu- 
larly directed. Nor was he less remarkable for the 
regularity of his conduct, and for his strict attention to 
that discipline which is fitted for an academic life. 

Edmund, As he was intended both for the bar and 
the parliament, his education was of course so regu- 
lated as to embrace each of these objects. 

Sir Charles. A legal and a political education 
ought to be nearly the same ; as it is impossible a man 
should become an able politician, without having at 
the same time a correct knowledge of the legal history 
of his country; nor indeed can any one become a 
good lawyer, without being perfectly conversant witli 
its political history. It is also of importance, tov/ards 
the formation of each of these characters, to obtain a 
full and acciu'ate knowledge of the origin, progress, 
^nd decline of ancient states, and of the laws and 
constitutions of modern kingdoms, with their interests, 
their government, and their polity. 
* Edmund, The proficiency of Mr. Pitt in all these 
branches of study was very considerable. The quickness 
of his comprehension rendered the acquisition of them 
easy ; while the interest he took in them made the im- 
pression permanent. 

Frederic, It was a great happiness to him to have 
had such a father as Lord Chatham. 

Edmund. So it was; and the death of Lord 
Chatham, when Mr. Pitt was only in his nineteenth 
year, was an inexpressible loss to him. He was thus 
Da 



58 STATESMEN, 

deprived, at this early period, of an invaluable guide 
and instructor. 

Frederic, After Mr. Pitt left the university, he 
went for a little while to the continent. On hi^ 
return he became a student in Lincoln's Inn ; and, as 
soon as he was of age, was called to the bar. 

Sir Charles. And did he ever practise as a bar- 
rister? 

Edmund, He once went the western circuit; and 
his success, during this short experiment, was amply 
sufficient to encourage him in the pursuit of his legal 
career. But he had to pursue a different and a more 
noble path. Before he had completed the twenty- 
second year of his age he became a member of par- 
liament, and, shortly afterwards, made his first speech 
m the house of commons, on Mr. Burke's motion for 
an economical reform in some of the expenses of the 
government. 

Sir Charles. You must now allow me to take up 
the subject. I will speak of it as concisely as possi- 
ble. On this, as on various other leading questions, 
Mr. Pitt espoused the cause of opposition. Young 
as he was, his first speech rivetted the attention of the 
house. He was wholly unembarrassed by the novelty 
of his situation, and the splendour of talents with 
which he was surrounded ; and he delivered his senti- 
ments with an ease, a grace, a soundness of judgment, 
and a classical accuracy of language, which not 
merely answered, but exceeded all the expectations 
that had been formed of him. On a change taking 
place in the administration, Mr. Pitt was appointed 
Chancellor of the Exchequer, and, not long afterwards, 
namely, in December, 1783, he united in himself the 
offices of First Lord of the Treasury, and Chancellor 
of the Exchequer. Thus, when only in his twenty- 
fourth year, he was honoured with die high rank of 
prime minister. This station he continued to hold 
more than seventeen vears. He had conducted the 



WILLIAM PITT. r>9 

publk affairs of the country in times of almost unex- 
ampled difficult}', and when principles subversive of 
religion, of order, and good government, commencing 
in the French Revolution, were eagerly propagated 
in every countiy of Europe. At length, however, on 
a difficulty occurring respecting the claims of the 
Roman Catholics to be placed on the same footing as 
members of the Church of England, he resigned his 
office, and was succeeded, in the month of March, 
1801, by the Right Honourable Henry Addington, 
now Viscount Sidmouth. After somewhat more than 
three years had elapsed, he was recalled to his former 
situation; and this he held till his death. 

Edmund, The health of Mr. Pitt experienced a 
rapid decline in the autumn of 1805, and in the month 
of January following, it was discovered that his illness 
was attended by peculiarly unfavourable symptoms. 
His physicians, so long as they could entertain a hope 
of his recovery, forbade any one to speak to him on 
subjects which might tend to agitate his mind. But 
at last, the Bishop of Lincoln, who, for some time, had 
been in almost constant attendance upon Mr. Pitt, ob- 
tained permission to intimate to him his dangerous 
state, and call his attention to religious duties. 

Sir Charles, The bishop went to his bed-side, and 
communicated to him the melancholy tidings. On 
liearing them, Mr. Pitt turned to Sir Walter Farquhar, 
his physician, and with the most perfect composure 
asked, '' How long do you think I have to live T In 
answer to the bishop's request that he might be per- 
mitted to pray with him and administer the sacrament, 
he said, *^ I fear I have, like too many other men, 
neglected prayer too much to have any ground for 
hope, that it can be efficacious on a death-bed — but," 
— (rising as he spoke, and clasping his hands with the 
utmost fervour and devotion,) — '' I throw myself 
entirely (the last word being pronounced with a sti'ong 
emphasis) upon the mercy of God, through the merits 



()() STATESMEN. 

of Christ !" The bishop then read prayers, and Mr. 
Pitt joined in them, with cahn and humble piety* 
He repeatedly expressed, in the strongest manner, his 
sense of his own unworthiness to appear in the pre- 
sence of God, disclaiming all ideas of merit; but, 
with a conscience evidently clear and undisturbed, 
he declared that he was perfectly resigned to the will 
of God ; that he felt no enmity towards any one ; but 
that he died in peace with all mankind : and ex- 
pressed his hope, at once humble and confident, of 
eternal happiness through the intercession of his Re- 
deemer. 

Frederic, T rocoUect, sir, that Mr. Pitt is said to 
have remained sensible almost to the latest moment of 
his life. Early in the morning of the twenty-third of 
January, 1806, the anniversary of that day on which, 
five and twenty years before, he had first become a 
member of the British parliament, he expired with- 
out a struggle, and without pain. He was then in the 
forty-seventh year of his age. 

Sir Charles, I believe it is allowed by all, that the 
moral conduct of Mr. Pitt was highly estimable, 
though he did not escape the charge of convivial in- 
temperance. His eloquence, the quality which first 
brought him into notice, is said to have been more 
perfect than that of any other speaker in his time. 
It was singularly correct, copious, and varied ; clear, 
well arranged, argumentative or impassioned as the 
subject required. He died possessed of the esteem 
and attachment of a large portion of his countrymen; 
and his political consequence was proved by the entire 
dissolution, at his death, of the ministry of which he 
was the head. As a statesman, the resources as well 
as the firmness of his mind, have been amply demon- 
strated by the measures he adopted to meet the 
various and unforeseen difficulties with which this 
nation was surrounded during the period of his admi- 
nistration. Abroad he had to straggle witli the most 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. Gl 

gigantic power that lias existed in modern times ; while 
at home he had to support, at the same time, commer- 
cial and national credit, to allay the spirit of mutiny, 
to extinguish the flames of rebellion, and to provide, 
in more seasons than one, even for the importu- 
nate calls of famine. The energies of his mind were 
eminently exerted upon those important occasions; 
and, in spite of internal distractions, he carried the 
power of the nation to a greater height than it had 
attained in any former period. 

Frederic. A love of power seems to have been the 
ruling passion of his heart ; yet I am free to confess, 
not onl}'^ that his mind was elevated above the mean- 
ness of avarice, but that his personal integrity was 
unimpeached. 

Sir Charles, Indeed, Frederic, Mr. Pitt was so 
far from making use of the opportunities which he 
possessed, to acquire wealth for himself, that he died 
involved in debts, which negligence, and the demands 
of his public station, rather than extravagance, had, 
perhaps, in some measure, obliged him to contract. 

Edmund. It is creditable to his country that his 
remains were honoured by a public funeral in West- 
minster Abbey, and that a sum of money was voted 
by tlie parliament to be appropriated for the payment 
of his debts. 



NINTH EVENING. 



The life next introduced for discussion was that of 
Charles James Fox, second son of the late 
Lord Holland; and the great political opponent of 
Mr. Pitt. Frederic observed, that he had been born 
on the thirteenth of January, 1749 ; and that, even 
whilst a child, he had displayed an astonishing supe- 



02 STATESMEN. 

riority of talent. He further remarked, that his 
father, who spared no pains in his education, made it 
a rule to follow and regulate, but not to restrain nature. 
At table, whilst a boy, Charles was permitted to enter 
into the conversation of men, and he invariably ac- 
quitted himself to the astonishment of the company. 

Edmund. It appears to me that such conduct could 
only have tended to render him what is called a for- 
ward boy; a kind of child which, I think, few people 
like. 

Sir Charles. I will tell you what once happened 
when his father was Secretary of State, and Charles 
not quite ten years of age. His father had often 
suffered him to read the dispatches that were written 
on public business, and the boy one day told him that 
a paper he had just read was too feeble. The little 
fellow tore and threw it into the fire ; and the secre- 
tary made out another copy, without even the slightest 
reprimand. 

Edmund, Surely, sir, most parents would consider 
indulgence of this description not only excessive, but, 
in its tendency, highly injurious. 

Sir Charles, I should certainly imagine so myself; 
and I should also imagine it must have impeded the 
progress of his education, in Avhich regularity of ap- 
plication is so essentially necessary. 

Frederic, Yet, whilst at school at Eton, his lite- 
rary acquirements are represented to have been far 
beyond those of most of his contemporaries. 

Edmund, I allow it; but these were not the effect 
of habitual application. He was indebted for them 
to the occasional exercise of his astonishing powers. 
The indulgence of his father very early led him into 
a strong bias for dissipation; and this was increased 
hy his being lavishly supplied with such sums of money 
as even invited to extravagance. 

Sir Charles, It has of late become a serious evil 
in public schools to allow boys so much pocket money, 
a.s often to induce habits that are injurious botli to 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. 03 

their health and morals. The profusion of Mr. Fox 
was unbounded; and long before he was of age he had 
expended enormous sums. 

Edmund. I have somewhere read that, when he 
was only fourteen years old, his father took him on an 
excursion to Spa; and, during his stay there, allowed 
him five guineas a night to game w ith. 

Sir Charles, After such an anecdote it is impos- 
sible we can feel any surprise when told that, in after 
life, Mr. Fox had a strong propensity to gaming. 

Frederic, In short, sir, we are to infer that he 
was brought up in lax morals, and luxurious habits. 
This, I trust, will at least be some apology for his 
subsequent character, on which my friend Edmund 
has no mercy. If, notwithstanding all these obstacles, 
he be found to have possessed good principles, the 
greater must have been his own merit. 

Sir Charles, Certainly ; and there is no saying how 
much better they might have been, had he been early 
taught the benefit of restraint. 

Edmund, From Eton, Mr. Fox was sent to Hert- 
ford College, Oxford. 

Frederic, And here his talents and his learning 
excited the admiration of all w^ho knew him. He 
was a profound classical scholar, and, in literary ac- 
quirements, excelled all the yoimg men of his own 
standing 

Edmund, Although his time seems to have been 
chiefly devoted to gaming and dissipation. 

Frederic, Indeed, Edmund, you must excuse me 
if I do not give full credence to your assertions. I 
indeed, unwillingly, allow the possibility of their being 
in part correct, but I cannot understand how any per- 
son, be his talents what they may, can have attained 
the knowledge that Mr. Fox undoubtedly possessed, 
without great personal application. Now this applica- 
tion alone, must have required so much time, as to 
have, in a very important degree, interrupted his dis- 
sipated habits. 



B4 STAtjeSMEN* 

Edmund, I cannot reason wiili you, Frederic, on 
tlie subject ; I only state what I have read. 

Sir Charles. To terminate your contest I will take 
lip the narrative. As a scholastic life was not the 
object of his father, Mr. Fox left the university with- 
out having taken a degree ; and, according to the 
custom of that day, went abroad. He made the tour 
of Europe; and thougn we are informed that he 
plunged into almost every kind of excess, he acquired 
an extensive and profound knowledge of the consti- 
tution, laws, government, arts, and manners, of the 
several countries that he visited. 

Edmund, Yes, sir, Mr. Fox has been compared 
with Alcibiades, who surpassed all of his age in the 
versatility of his genius, and the intemperance of his 
conduct. 

Sir Charles, We have now to mark his rise in the 
political world. Devoted early to a political life, he 
was elected a member of parliament in 1768, when 
little more than twenty years of age ; and, young 
as he was, he distinguished himself among the many 
eminent men then in the house of commons. His 
father, Lord Holland, was at that time in office, as 
Secretary of State, and Mr. Fox was originally what 
is called a Tory. At first he took the side of the ad- 
ministration, and was thought one of its ablest sup- 
porters. The facility with which he made himself 
master of a new question, and comprehended the 
strength, or weakness, and the tendency of a propo- 
sition or measure, his forcible mode of reasoning, his 
readiness of the most appropriate, significant and 
energetic language, soon rendered him conspicuous. 
At this period, holding the situation of one of the 
Lords of the Admiralty, and afterwards of a Lord of 
the Treasury, he uniformly supported the ministers, 
and what is termed the royal prerogative; and no one 
could have bfeen more remote than he from entei- 
laining those popular principles, as they are called, 
vviiich he subsequently adopted. After the death of his 



CHARLES JAMES FOX. G-Ji 

father in 1774, lie became a slave to most of those 
passions which prove injurious to youth, especially 
that of gaming. These injured both his character and 
peace of mind ; and in a little while wholly subverted 
his fortune. Some circumstances now occurred which 
led him to act in opposition to the measures of govern- 
ment, and he was dismissed from his office. During 
the whole war with America, Mr. Fox continued to 
speak and vote, in the house of commons, against the 
proceedings of the ministers. It was now that his 
talents appeared in their fullest lustre, and tliat he 
assumed the foremost rank amongst the speakers of 
that house. This conduct he continued after the 
breaking out of the French Revolution, strenuously 
opposing all the measures that were adopted in conse- 
quence of the war with France. In the house of 
commons, he and Mr. Pitt were constantly opposed to 
each other; and, on the retirement of Mr. JPitt from 
office, and the conclusion of the war with France in 
1801, Mr. Fox and his friends gave their support to 
the administration. When hostilities were again me- 
ditated, Mr. Fox at frrst expressed his doubts of their 
necessity ; but when, on the death of Mr. Pitt, in 
1806, he came into power as one of the Secretaries of 
State, he found it necessary to give all his aid to sup- 
port the war by the same means, and with the same 
spirit, as his predecessor had done. He did not how- 
ever long continue in office. His health now began 
to decay. Symptoms of dropsy appeared, and, in a 
few months, he was laid in the grave. 

Edmund, He died on the thirteenth of September, 
1806, in the fifty-eighth year of his age; and was 
buried in Westminster Abbey, close by the tomb of 
his illustrious rival, Mr. Pitt. 

Frederic. Will you oblige us, sir, by your opinion 
of the character of Mr. Fox 'I 

Sir Charles, Most willingly. One of the princi- 
pal features of his character was openness. His dis- 
position was candid, liberal, and benevolent in an ex- 



66 STATESMEN. 

treme. In every part of his public, and even of his 
private conduct, boldness and decision were promi- 
nent. Whether the ends he pursued were useful or 
injurious, there was no artifice, no petty intrigue, no 
duplicity in the means. 

Frederic. What do you think, sir, of his talents 
as a speaker ? 

Sir Charles, I think that, without the brilliancy 
and the varied imagery of Burke, or the elegant and 
florid correctness of Pitt, his eloquence possessed those 
qualities which can never fail to excite a powerful in- 
fluence upon a popular auditory, even of the most 
cultivated kind. It had a fervour and animation 
denoting real earnestness, and occasionally bursting 
into passion, not acted but felt, united with the close 
reasoning of an acute logician, and those masterly 
views of a subject, which superiority of understand- 
ing alone can conceive and impart. 

I must not omit to inform you, that Mr. Fox was 
tlie author of a work which was published after his 
death, entitled "A History of the early Part of the 
Reiffn of Kino; James the Second." 



PHILOSOPHERS. 



TENTH EVENING. 

Mr. Allen, liaving been liberated from his engage- 
ment, was now enabled to rejoin the conversations. 
Frederic this evening stated, that he had lately em- 
ployed himself in perusing the hves of eminent British 
Philosophers ; and observed how much information he 
had derived from the life of Roger Bacon. 

Mr, Allen. In the course of my reading, T really 
have not met with any character on the whole more 
extraordinary than that of Friar Bacon. Though he 
lived in an age of comparative ignorance, and, conse- 
quently, was deprived of all those advantages which 
we possess, he became not merely the greatest philo- 
sopher of his own time, but was perhaps the brightest 
genius that Europe ever produced. 

Edmund, You call him Friar Bacon, sir. 

Mr, Allen, I do so, because he is generally known 
by that appellation. He obtained it from having been 
a member of a rehgious community denominated Friars- 
Minors, or Grey Friars. 

Frederic, He was born at Ilchester, in Somerset- 
shire, in the year 1214, and was first educated at 
Oxford. 

Mr, Allen, Where he pursued his studies with an 
eagerness and assiduity which, at the same time that 
they insured success to his ultimate pursuits, obtained 
for him the strongest marks of favour from his in- 
structors. 

Frederic, After he had continued some years in 
Oxford, the scene of his education was transferred 



68 PHILOSOPHERS. 

from England to France; and at Paris, lie availed 
himself of all the ad\ antages that could he derived 
from the distinguished professors in that university. 

Sir Charles. Then wc must consider the extraor- 
dinary attainments for which he afterwards became so 
celebrated, as owing in a considerable degree, to these 
advantages. 

Frederic. Certainly, sir; but infinitely more to his 
own genius, and his intense and indefatigable application. 
Mr. Allen. The knowledge he acquired of Oriental 
and Grecian learning, in an age when a minute atten- 
tion to words constituted nearly the whole of what 
was called erudition, is alone a proof that he far 
excelled all his contemporaries. We shall have to state 
other and more satisfactory proofs than this. But we 
must proceed with his history. 

Frederic. Whilst he was in Paris he was advanced 
to the degree of doctor in divinity; and, when only 
twenty-six years of age, was admitted into the commu- 
nity of Friars-Minors. Not long after this he returned 
to Oxford, where he devoted himself chiefly to the 
study of mechanics, optics, and chemistry. 

Edmund. I have somewhere read that his attempts 
to advance this kind of knowledge by experiment was 
assisted by generous contributions from various quarters; 
which enabled him, in the course of twenty years, to 
expend upwards of two thousand pounds, (at that time 
a large sum) in constructing instruments, collecting 
books, and making experiments of different kinds. 

Sir Charles. The sum you mention was equal in 
value to more than fifty thousand pounds of the present 
money. 

Fdmu7id. Astonishing! His apparatus must have 
been very extensive indeed, though no doubt rudely con- 
structed, in comparison with the philosophical instru- 
ments of the present day. How lamentable it is that 
his knowledge and intentions should have been so much 
misunderstood as they were. 

Frederic. The bigotted friai-s, to whose society he 



ROGER BACON. CO 

belonged, envious of his matclilesf; honours, or fearful 
of his future ascendancy over them, conspired to 
injure his reputation, and to defeat the liberal ambition 
of a man whose aims, uncontaminated by secular or 
interested views, were exclusively directed to the 
advancement of the highest and most useful branches 
of human knowledge. They slanderously and infa- 
mously reported that he was addicted to necromancy, 
and to an unholy communion with demons or evil 
spirits. 

Sir Charles, And what was the consequence of this? 
Frederic, So powerful were the secret intrigues of 
his adversaries, that, though the heads of the university 
were friendly to his interest, he was condemned to a 
rigorous confinement, aggravated by the hardest depri- 
vations, and uncheered by the offers of friendship. It 
is said that this hostility had been inflamed by the just 
animadversions which Bacon had been heard to pass 
on the gross ignorance and errors of the religious orders 
of that day ; and by the indignant severity w ith which 
he had censured their vices. 

Edmund. But the pope who had authorized his con- 
finement died, and his successor had liberality enough 
to order the release of this extraordinary man. He 
thus obtained a temporary respite from persecution; 
and this interval of unmolested quiet l:e dedicated with 
fresh ardour to those occupations which, even in the 
midst of all his hardships, had never ceased to engage 
his mind. 

Frederic, The pope from whom the philosopher had 
received this indulgence, enjoyed his dignity only three 
years; and after his death Bacon was seized and im- 
prisoned in France. The perusal of his writings was 
at the same time forbidden. He lingered in this cap- 
tivity for more than ten years ; but at length regained 
his freedom, and once more found his way to Oxford, 
where, at the age of seventy eight, his labours and his 
vexations were terminated by death. 

Mr, Allen. The astonishing acquirements of Roger 



70 PHILOSOPHERS. 

Bacon obtained for liim tlie distinguishing appellation 
of doctor mirabilis, or the wonderful doctor. With 
what propriety this title was given, will be evident from 
the number and variety of his works, many of which are 
still extant. Nearly a hundred have been enumerated, 
on grammar, mathematics, physics, optics, geography, 
astronomy, chronology, chemistry, magic, medicine, 
logic, metaphysics, moral philosophy, theology, and 
other subjects. Besides an acquaintance with the 
subjects of theology and metaphysics, and a skill in 
languages far above the usual standard. Bacon was 
master of almost every branch of mathematical and 
physical science. His progress in chemistry was so 
great that he anticipated some of the proudest disco- 
veries of subsequent times. The invention of gun- 
powder is now universally assigned to him, though 
it was claimed by a monk of the following century. 
^' From saltpetre and other ingredients," he says, '' we 
are able to form an artificial fire, which will burn at 
any distance we please." And speaking of the effect 
of this fire, he observes that, "by means of it, sounds 
like thunder, and the appearance of lightning, may be 
produced in the air, and even with more terrible effect 
than those which happen naturally ; for a small portion 
of matter, about the size of the thumb, properly 
disposed, will make a dreadful sound, and exhibit a 
vast corruscation, by which a city or an army may be 
destroyed." 

Edmund. This appears to me very surprising. 

Mr. Allen. But this was only a small part of his 
innumerable inventions. He mentions a kind of unex- 
tinguishable Jire, the mode of preparing which he had 
discovered, and which was probably a kind of phos- 
phorus. In rnechanics he speaks of several wonderful 
inventions ; of vessels and carriages moved by machi- 
nery, of machines for raising vast weights, and of 
other for diving beneath the surface of the water, all 
of which he had himself formed and tried. 

Frederic. I think I have read that he was the oii- 
o;inal inventor of air-balloons. 



ROGER BACON. 71 

Mr, Allen. He certainly speaks of machines which 
would rise into the air. 

Sir Charles, His proficiency in optics, when m e 
consider the disadvantages under Avhich he laboured, 
appears to me more surprising than any other part ol' 
his knowledge. He was no stranger to the use ot* 
convex and concave lenses or glasses, the laws of 
refraction, the formation of mirrors, and the grand 
invention of the telescope. He speaks expressly of 
the application of spherical glasses to the purposes of 
reading, and of viewing distant objects, both terrestrial 
and celestial. In his writings are also found descrip- 
tions of the camera obscura, and the burning glass. 

Mr, Allen. Such was his astronomical knowledge, 
that Bacon suggested an alteration in the calendar, 
which, three centuries after his death, was adopted by- 
Pope Gregory the Thirteenth. Dr. Jebb, who edited 
his principal work, justly styles this '^ one of the noblest 
efforts of human industry.^' His geographical know- 
ledge may be inferred from various passages of his 
works, but particularly from one very curious passage, 
concerning the countries that lie betwixt the Danube 
and the eastern borders of Tartary, and which has 
subsequently proved correct. 

Edmund, I cannot sufficiently express my astonish- 
ment at the extent of knowledge which this wonderful 
man possessed, and which could not possibly have 
been attained without the most assiduous attention, 
and indefatigable application to study. 

Mr. Allen, He affords us a satisfactory proof 
how much may be effected by application, even mider 
circumstances which, in themselves, are extremely 
disadvantageous. But, enlightened as he was, he 
was not without a considerable portion of that super- 
stitious and visionary spirit, which marked tlie studies 
of the middle ages. One of his principal objects 
in the pursuit of chemistry, for instance, was to dis- 
cover the philosophers' stone, as it was called, or a 
composition by which he could convert the inferior 



72 PHILOSOPHERS. 

metals into gold. It was, no doubt, in the pursuit of 
this that he was gradually led to attain an accurate 
knowledge of the properties and actions of divers 
kinds of natural bodies. He also partook so far of 
the superstition of the age, as to place some confidence 
injudicial astrology, or the mode of foretelling future 
events by the motions and positions of the planets; 
but he was a decided enemy to the imaginary arts of 
necromancy and magic. He wrote several treatises 
purposely to expose their futility, and to convince the 
world that they were either idle delusions, or fraudu- 
lent impositions. 

Edmund, But, sir, Bacon was himself accused of 
having been a magician. There is a well known story 
of his having formed a brazen head, which, after seven 
years preparation, was to speak, and tell whether the 
British island might not be enclosed within a wall of 
brass. It is stated, that not having been regarded when 
it first spoke, and said, ''Time is," on its speaking 
again, and saying, " Time was," it fell to pieces. 

Mr. Allen, No calumny was ever more unjust, no 
story ever more absurd than this. Similar tales have been 
related of other philosophers of this period, but they 
were certainly never believed, except by the lowest 
and most ignorant of the people. On the whole it 
cannot be questioned that Friar Bacon was one of the 
brightest and most astonishing geniuses that the world 
ever produced; and, as such, Avill ever be entitled to 
very extraordinary regard. Though knowledge be 
now so far advanced that little information can at the 
present day be derived from his writings, yet respect* 
ought ever to be paid to the memory of a man who 
knew more than any of his contemporaries, and who, 
in an age of superstition and ignorance, added new 
brightness to the lamp of science. 



KOBEKT BOYLE. 



ELEVENTH EVENING. 

Frederic. One of the most illustrious philosophers 
of modern times was the honourable Robert Boyle, 
a younger son of Richard Boyle, Earl of Cork. He 
was born in Ireland, in the year 1627; and was com- 
mitted, by his father, to the care of a plain, country- 
nurse, with instructions that he should be brought up 
in the same habits of exercise, and with the same plain 
diet, as if he had been her own child. 

Edmund. What can have been the cause of so sin- 
gular a direction ? 

Mr. Allen. His father had witnessed many evils 
arising from the indulgence of parents in rearing their 
children too effeminately, and was determined to have 
his own son brought up in such manner as to invigo- 
rate his constitution, and render him hardy. 

Frederic. True, sir; but the advantages that were 
derived from this procedure were afterwards coun- 
teracted, by his being treated with too much tender- 
ness. 

Sir Charles. Had his father also been aware what 
bad habits, might be contracted by a child, under such 
superintendance, it is probable he would have hesitated 
as to the propriety of his plan ; for the boy, by mimick- 
ing some children of his own age, learned to stammer ; 
and though no endeavours were afterwards spared to 
correct this propensity, and though with great attention 
he at last could avoid it, yet he never could speak with- 
lut hesitation. 

Mr. Allen. Nothing can be a stronger proof than 
this of the injury that may follow from imitating the 
infirmities or bad habits of others, whether it be stam- 
mering, squinting, or any wicked propensities ; for an 
imitation of these has, in many instances besides that 
of Mr. Boyle, led the imitator himself into similar 
habits. 



74 PHILOSOPHERS. 

Frederic, When only three years old he had the 
misfortune to lose his mother, a calamity which he 
deeply regretted during his whole life ; esteeming it a 
peculiar unhappiness not to have known a parent so 
amiable and so accomplished as she is represented to 
have been. 

Sir Charles. There is one trait in Mr. Boyle's early 
character that deserves the notice of all young persons. 
He had so strict a regard for truth, that his father never 
knew him to have uttered a falsehood. 

Mr, Allen, If young persons were aware of the bad 
consequences that almost always follow the telling of 
untruths, I am sure no one would be guilty of so 
detestable a vice. 

Frederic. Mr. Boyle w^as educated in his father's 
house until he was eight years of age, when, with his 
brother Francis, he was sent to the school at Eton. 
During his continuance there, several extraordinary 
and nearly fatal accidents happened to him. One of 
these was the sudden falling in of the chamber where 
he slept, and that when he was in bed. In this acci- 
dent, besides the hazard he ran of being crushed by the 
timbers and rubbish, he would certainly have been 
choked with the dust whilst under the ruins, had he 
not recollected to wrap his head in the sheet, by which 
he was enabled to breathe without injury. When Mr. 
Boyle was about eleven years old, he and his brother 
left Eton; and, under the care of a private tutor, em- 
barked for the continent, where they continued about 
six years. 

Sir Charles, Are we to suppose, from his having 
left school at so early an age, that his education was 
in any degree neglected ? 

Frederic, Certainly not, sir; it had for a while been 
suspended, and necessarily so, from a violent attack of 
ague, but, by close application afterwards, he became 
a proficient in all the learned, and in many of the 
living languages. He also obtained a complete know- 
ledge of the mathematics. 



KOBERT COYLE. 15 

Mi\ Allen, What lias been said of his religious 
principles at this period ? 

Frederic. Wiieu only about fourteen years old, he 
began, as he acknowledged himself, to entertain some 
distracting thoughts, some mixture of doubts and diffi- 
culties, respecting the evidences of the Christian reve- 
lation. 

3Ir, Allen, And what was the consequence of this? 

Frederic, That he continued in a state of perplexity 
and melancholy for many months ; and that, at length, 
impelled by the great importance of the subject, he 
determined earnestly to inquire into the grounds and 
foundation of it. 

Mr, Allen, If this inquiry w^ere made with a sincere 
desire of ascertaining the truth, I have no need to ask 
you what was the result. 

Frederic. Mr. Boyle has himself told us : he says 
that, *' although he then believed more than he could 
comprehend, he conceived that he did not believe more 
than he could prove ;" and w as consequently confirmed 
in the truth of Christianity. 

Edmund, I think I have read that, on his return to 
England after his travels, Mr. Boyle applied himself 
to study with great assiduity ; and that his progress in 
many branches of literature, which have usually been 
accounted difficult and abstruse, was very surprising. 
He omitted no opportunity of becoming acquainted 
with persons distinguished for their genius and learn- 
ing ; and, though he was at this time very young, his 
merit gained him admission to men of great eminence. 
His diligence was the more commendable, because his 
health was at intervals much disordered by a complaint 
called the stone, to which he w as subject, and to which 
his sedentary life might probably have contributed. 

Frederic, He resided for some time in the city of 
Oxford, not only on account of easy access to several 
ingenious friends in the diffigrent colleges, but also on 
account of the numerous conveniences which the uni- 
\ersity aJOPorded for the prosecution of his favourite 
E 2 



76 PHILOSOPHERS. 

studies, and particularly tliat of experimental pliilo- 
sopliy. 

Si?- Charles. Our present Royal Society had its 
origin in the meetings of Mr. Boyle and his friends, 
for the discussion of philosophical subjects. 

Mr. Allen. Mr. Boyle was treated with great respect 
by King Charles the Second ; and Lord Southampton, 
and the Lord Chancellor Clarendon, each solicited him 
to enter into holy orders, with intention, no doubt, of 
his being made a bishop. But this, after much deli- 
beration, he thought it proper to decline, and upon the 
most disinterested motives. 

Frederic. On a vacancy in the situation of provost 
of Eton, the king appointed Mr. Boyle to that office. 
But he, apprehending that its duties might interfere 
with his studies, and desirous of continuing a course of 
life which, by experience, he had found agreeable to 
his temper and constitution, respectfully, but resolutely, 
declined the appointment. 

Mr. Allefi. Though Mr. Boyle had an insuperable 
objection to enter into orders, he was at all times 
anxious for the promulgation of the Christian religion. 
One proof of this was his causing a translation to be 
made of the Gospels and Acts of the Apostles into 
the Malayan language. Of this translation he had 
five hundred copies printed at Oxford, and sent to 
the East Indies, at his own expense. He also caused 
Grotius's admirable work on the Truth of the Christian 
Religion, to be translated into Arabic, and printed and 
circulated in all the countries where that language was 
understood. He projected a translation of the New 
Testament into the Turkish language, and would have 
been at the whole expense of its publication, had it not 
been taken out of his hands and completed by others. 
He expended upwards of seven hundred pounds in an 
edition of the Scriptures in the native Irish language ; 
contributed liberally to the publication of a Welsh 
Bible, and expended considerable sums in promoting 
missions for propagating the Christian religion in 



ROBERT BOYLE. 77 

various remote parts of the world. All these prove, 
ill the most coii\ inciiig mamier, the sincerity of his 
own faith in the Christian religion. 

Si7' Charles, No evidence can well be more strong. 
Other pleasing traits in his character were his perfectly 
independent mind ; and his entire disregard of worldly 
honours and distinctions. On a vacancy occurring in 
the situation of President of the Royal Society, that 
body, to evince their just sense of his worth, and of 
his constant and eminent services, elected him their 
President; but he declined this honour. It would, 
' however, afford a very satisfactory proof of his fitness 
for such a situation, were I to enumerate to you his 
philosophical publications. These are very numerous, 
and exhibit evidences of intense application, and of a 
mind wholly given up to study, and to science. 

Frederic. AVe now approach the close of a life 
valuable in an eminent degree to the world. The 
healtl^ of Mr. Boyle began to decline ; and, though he 
Ibresaw that he could not much longer survive, he still 
pursued with ardour his favourite studies. 

Sir Charles, He even went so far as to announce by 
public advertisement, that he could not now receive 
visits as usual; stating, among other reasons, that '^he 
wanted leisure to arrange his papers, to supply the 
blanks which he had left in many of his treatises, and 
to repair the deficiencies of others, occasioned by the 
carelessness of a sen ant, who had spilt upon them a 
bottle of sulphuric acid.'' 

Edmund. Soon after this he directed a board to be 
placed over his door, on particular occasions, intimating 
that Mr. Boyle could not then be spoken with. 

Frederic. With respect to his death, he entertained 
no other fear, than lest the painful disease, with which 
he had long been afflicted, should increase to such a 
degi-ee as to distract his attention from the important 
cojicerns of futurity to his own sufferings. 

Mr. Allen, But, when death came upon him, it was 



7a PHlLOSOPHSPvS. 

with so little pain that the flame of life appeared to go 
out merely from want of oil to maintain it. Do jou 
recollect the date of his death. 

Frederic, Mr, Boyle expired oli the thirtieth of 
December, 1691, in the sixty-ninth year of his age ; 
and his renjains were interred in the chancel of the 
church of St. Martin's in the Fields, Westminster. 

BTr, Allen, It was a principal object of the philoso- 
phical pursuits of this excellent man, to promote the 
cause of religion. This design was so deeply im- 
-pressed upon his mind, that he concludes an article in 
liis will, relating to tlie Royal Society, in these words : 
" I wish them a happy success in their attempts to 
discover the true nature of the works of God, and I pray 
that they, and all other searchers into physical truths, 
may cordially refer their attainments to the glory of the 
great Author of nature, and to the comfort of mankind," 
The study of the Scriptures he pursued to a great 
extent, and in the Hebrew^ and other oriental tongues. 
He had read so many of the writings of the Fathers, 
that he had formed a clear judgment of all those that 
are most eminent. He had also perused with attention 
(he various controversies in religion, and was master 
of the whole body of divinity. Bishop Burnet, who 
preached his funeral sermon, says : '* I might challenge 
(he whole tribe of libertines to come here and view the 
usefulness as well as the excellence of the Christian 
religion, in a life that was entirely devoted to it." 

Sir Charles. His writings were extremely numerous, 
^nd. fully evince his learning and great acquirements. 
They are on various subjects connected with natural 
and experimental philosophy: on optics, mechanics, 
chemistry, and the Christian religion. 



JOHN LOCKE. 70 



TWELFTH EVENING. 

Few philosophical writings, observed Mr. Allen, have 
attained greater celebrity than the Essay on the Human 
Understanding, by John Locke. Nor is perhaps 
any book of the kind better adapted than this, to teach 
men to think with precision, and to inspire them with 
that love of candour and of truth which is the genuine 
spirit of philosophy. Sir Charles Irwin assented to 
this opinion, and remarked how satisfactory it was to 
every religious mind to know that a man of Mr. 
Locke's sound judgment should also have been a sin- 
cere Christian. Lady Irwin inquired if he had not 
v/ritten some work in defence of Christianity. On 
being informed that he had published a treatise on the 
Reasonableness of Christianity, as delivered in the 
Scriptures, she expressed an anxious desire to see it ; 
remarking, that its author, having been a layman, could 
not be considered to have had any interested motives 
in writing it, and consequently could only have done 
so from a conviction that he was defending the truth. 
She said that she was in a great measure ignorant of 
his history, and was desirous to be informed who he 
was. 

Frederic, He was born near Bristol, in the year 
1632, and was the son of a person who had been clerk 
to a justice of the peace, afterwards a captain in the 
army of the parliament, and lastly an attorney. 

Edmund. By the interest and the pecuniary assist- 
ance of friends, he was educated at Westminster 
School, and thence, at the age of nineteen, was removed 
to Christ Church, Oxford. 

Frederic. But he did not obtain any celebrity on 
account of his talents, either at school, or in the uni- 
versity. 

Lady Irwin. As he was a young man without for- 
tune, I presume he was educated for some profession. 

Frederic, His peculiar attention was applied to the 



80 PHILOSOPHERS. 

study of physic; but his favourite study, at this period^ 
seems to have been that of natural philosophy. 

Lady Irivin. Did he ever practise as a physician? 

Frederic, He was prevented from doing so publicly - 
by an accidental introduction to Lord Ashley, after- 
wards Earl of Shaftesbury, who prevailed with him to 
reside in his family in a medical capacity. 
' Edmund. The partiality of this nobleman for Mr. 
Locke was so great, that, on all occasions, he showed 
him extraordinary respect ; and, from the opportunity 
that he had, as a statesman, of introducing him into the 
world, urged him, in a particular manner, to direct his 
attention to the study of politics. 

Sir Charles, He shortly afterwards introduced him 
to several statesmen of his acquaintance. 

Frederic. I will tell you what happened at his first 
interview with three or four illustrious characters, who 
appear to have met at Lord Ashley's, rather indeed 
for amusement than for business. After a short inter- 
val, and before scarcely any conversation had passed, 
cards were introduced, and they sat down to play. 
Mr. Locke looked on for a little while, and then 
retiring to one of the windows, took out his note-book, 
and began to write with great attention. One of the 
noblemen inquiringl as to his being thus occupied, he 
replied; ''My lord, lam endeavouring to profit, as 
far as I am able, in your company; for, having waited 
with impatience for the honour of being in an assembly 
of the most eminent geniuses of this age, and having, 
at length, attained this honour, I thought I could not 
more profitably occupy my time than by writing down 
the conversation ; and I have here noted the substance 
of what has been said during the last hour or two.'^ 

Lady Irivin. And what was the consequence of this 
rebuke ? 

Frederic. They appear to have taken it in good part; 
for, quitting their play, they passed the remainder of 
the time in a more rational manner. 

Edmund, Lord Ashley's high opinion of Mr. Locke 



JOHN LOCKE. 81 

is fully shown by his having requested him to superin- 
tend the education of his eldest son, a youth at that 
time about sixteen years of age. He was subsequently 
private tutor to the son of this pupil, the Lord Shaftes- 
bury, who was the author of a well known work enti- 
tled ** Characteristics of Men, Manners, Opinions, and 
Times." 

Lady Irwin. There are, I am informed, many ob- 
jectionable doctrines in this work. How happened it 
that Mr. Locke did not instil into his mind better 
principles ? 

Edmund, It is to be presumed that he attempted to 
do this ; and Avhy he failed of success does not appear 
to have been recorded, further than that we are in- 
formed his philosophy did not give entire satisfaction 
to Lord Shaftesbury. 

Lady Invin, I should much like to know^ what w ere 
the usual habits and conduct of Mr. Locke in private life. 

Mr, Allen, With a constitution naturally delicate, 
he had great gentleness of manners. These, in con- 
junction with his wisdom, obtained for him the respect 
of his inferiors, the esteem of his equals, and the 
friendship and confidence of persons in the highest 
ranks of life. In conversation he was most inclined 
to useful and serious subjects ; but, when occasion 
offered, he w^ould indulge in a free and facetious style ; 
and was master of many entertaining stories, which he 
introduced to illustrate his remarks : nor was he averse 
to innocent and delicate raillery. 

Frederic, I have read that he loved to talk with 
artisans and mechanics in their owoi style. By putting 
questions to persons of this description, he would 
sometimes discover a secret in their art, which was 
not well understood even by themselves ; and he would 
thus give them views entirely new, which they aftcr- 
wards put into practice to their own profit. He is 
described to have had a great dislike to any airs of 
affected gravity, and to have sometimes diverted him- 
self by imitating such,- in order to ridicule them with 
e3 



I 



B2 PHILOSOPHERS, 

better effect. He frequently quoted the maxim tliat, 
'' gravity is a mysterious carriage of the body, in order 
to conceal tlie defects of the mind." 

Sir Charles, It was during his residence in the 
family of Lord Ashley, that he formed the plan of 
his " Essay on the Human Understanding;'' and I have 
been told, that the work, which was afterwards ex- 
panded into two closely printed octavo volumes, he at 
first imagined he should have been able to compress 
into little more than a single sheet of paper. 

Mr. Allen, His patron was created Earl of Shaftes- 
bury, and made Lord Chancellor ; and 'Mr. Locke was, 
in consequence, appointed to a lucrative situation. But 
this he did not long retain. In 1673, he went to the 
south of France for the re-instatement of his health, 
which had been considerably injured by his sedentary 
employments. Lord Shaftesbury, having rendered 
himself obnoxious to the government, found it neces- 
sary to reth'e into Holland, whither Mr. Locke shortly 
afterwards followed him. Here he remained until the 
Revolution, when he retm^ned to England, in the fleet 
which brought the Princess of Orange ; and, in the 
following year, he published two treatises on Govern- 
ment, for the purpose of defending the principles 
upon which the Revolution was founded. 

Frederic, His residence after this, was in the 
house of Sir Francis Masham, at Oates, in Essex. 
Here he found the air peculiarly beneficial to his con- 
stitution, and the society so agreeable, that he became 
one of the family, and continued in it during the 
remainder of his life. 

Sir Charles. He was now appointed one of the 
Commissioners of Trade and Plantations. The duties 
of this office he discharged with great diligence and 
ability for about five years ; when he was obliged to 
resign it on account of ill health. The king requested 
that he might be continued in the office, although the 
labour of it should be performed by deputj^ But Mr. 
Locke said, that he could not conscientiously hold any 



j 



JOHN LOCKE. 83 

place to which so great a salary (about a thousand 
pounds a year) was annexed, without discharging the 
duties of it himself; and, in consequence, his resig- 
nation was accepted. 

Mj\ Allen. The disease with which Mr. Locke was 
afflicted, increased to such a degi^ee, that he soon became 
sensible he could not long survive. He often spoke of 
his approaching dissolution, and always with compo- 
sure. After his retirement from public business, he 
applied himself, almost exclusively, to the study of tlie 
Sacred Writings; and in this pursuit, always expressed 
that he felt the greatest satisfaction. Do you recollect 
the answer he, on one occasion, wrote to a young gen- 
tleman, who had asked what was the shortest and surest 
way for a person to attain a true knowledge of the 
Christian religion ? 

Edmund, He replied, '^Let him study the Holy 
Scripture, especially the New Testament. It has God 
for its author ; salvation for its end ; and truth, without 
any mixture of error, for its matter." 

Lady Irivin, How admirable a remark ; and how 
convincing when expressed by such a man ! Bat Mr. 
Allen seems to express himself as if this profound 
philosopher had chiefly attended to the study of reli- 
gion during the latter part of his life. 

3ir. Allen, This is certainly not what I mean ; for, 
during fourteen or fifteen years after he left the univer- 
sity, he applied himself, in a very particular manner, 
to the study of the Scriptures. The comfort v/hich 
he derived from Divine Revelation, he forcibly ex- 
pressed in these words: ^^ I gratefully receive, and 
rejoice in the light of Revelation, which has set me 
at rest in many things, the manner whereof my poor 
reason can by no means make out to me." For some 
months before his death, he passed his time almost 
wholly in acts of devotion. On the day before he 
died, he said to Lady Masham, who was sitting by his 
bed-side, that this world was only a state of prepara- 
tion for a better; adding, that **he had lived long 



84 PKTLOSOPHERS. 

enough; and, thanked God that he had enjoyed a happy 
life ; and that after all he looked upon this life to be 
nothing but Tanity." On the same day he particularly 
advised all those who were about him to read the 
Scriptures, and desired to be remembered by them in 
their prayers. An occasion having offered to speak of the 
goodness of God, he especially exalted the care which 
God had shown to man in justifying him by faith in Jesus 
Christ ; and, in particular, returned thanks to God for 
having blessed him with the knowledge of that divine 
Saviour. All the faculties of his mind were perfect 
to the last. During the night before he died he had 
no rest, and, in the morning, requested that he might 
be carried into his study. There, placed in an arm- 
chair, he had a refreshing sleep for some time. He 
then requested Lady Masham to read aloud to him 
some of the Psalms; to which he appeared extremely 
attentive. At length, probably feeling the approach of 
death, he desired her to desist, and in a few minutes 
expired, on the twenty-eighth of October, 1704, in the 
seventy- third year of his age. 

Si?' Charles. The works of Mr. Locke, which are 
numerous, and on various subjects, were originally 
published separate, but since his death, have all been 
collected and printed together in ten volumes. 



TBIRTEENTH EVENING. 

This evening Frederic Montagu proposed to discuss 
the life of a philosopher infinitely superior to Locke. 
He spoke of him with rapture; and was proceeding 
to expatiate on the splendour of his genius, and the 
universality of his talent, when Lady Irwin, good- 
naturedly interrupting him, remarked, that there 
c<Mld be no difficulty in devising whom he meant ; that 
it could be no other than Sir Isaac Newton, who. 



SIR ISAAC NEWTON. S'* 

hy general acclamation, had been placed at the head 
of the British philosophers. Frederic bowed assent; 
and Edmund, showing that he was not unacquainted 
with the history of tliis great man, observed that lit 
was born on Christmas-day, 1642, near Colsterwortli, 
in the county of Lincoln. 

Lady Irwin inquired \^ho his parents had been, 
and what particulars were known concerning his child- 
hood and youth; remarking, that all must be interested 
in the early history of a person who has attained so 
much celebrity as Sir Isaac Newton. 

Frederic, His father was a man of some property ; 
a descendant from an ancient family, which had resided 
in Lancashire ; but he died three months before this 
great philosopher was born. 

Edmund. When a child, Newton was so small that 
his motlier used to say, she could have put him into a 
quart pot. He was sent to a day-school till he was 
twelve years old, and then to the grammar-school at 
Grantham. 

Lady Irwin, And what kind of a scholar was he ? 

Edmund, He is said to have given proofs of sur- 
prising genius, though we have no particular account 
of his literary progress at this period. 

Frederic, His great delight was in mechanical con- 
trivances. Instead of playing with the other boys, we 
are told that he was almost always busied in making 
different kinds of models in wood. For this purpose he 
procured saws, hatchets, hammers, and other tools, 
which he soon taught himself to use with great dex- 
terity. He even proceeded so far as to make a wooden 
clock. 

Mr, Allen, But what occupied a great part of his 
attention, when a boy, was a new windmill which had 
been erected near Grantham. His imitative genius 
w as thereby particularly excited ; and, by frequently 
prying into it, during the time of its construction, lie 
contrived to make a model of it so perfect that it 



BO PHILOSOPHERS. 

was considered at least equal in workmansliip to the 
original. 

Edmund. The account that has beeR given of this 
little windmill is very amusing. He sometimes set it 
upon the top of the house where he lodged, and, 
having placed a narrow slip of linen upon each of 
the sails, the wind easily turned them. He put a 
mouse into his mill, and called it the miller; so con- 
triving the interior that the little animal should turn 
the sails round whenever he thought proper; and he 
used to joke about his miller eating the corn that was 
put into the mill. 

Sir- Charles, The mechanical contrivances of this 
wonderful youth were very numerous. Among other 
things he formed a water-clock, which he made out of 
an old box. He made a dial-plate at the top, with 
figures for the hours ; and the hand or index of this 
was turned by a piece of wood which moved accord- 
ing to the dropping of water out of the box. He 
placed this machine in the room where he lay, and 
took care every morning to supply it with a proper 
quantity of water. 

Lady Irimn. What an extraordinary youth he must 
have been ! 

Edmund, He was so, certainly; but these fancies 
engrossed so much of his attention, that he was apt to 
neglect liis book, and even dull boys were sometimes 
put above him in his form. 

Mr, Allen. True, Edmund; but whenever this hap- 
pened Newton was always induced to redouble his 
pains to overtake them, and so great was his capacity, 
that he could outstrip them whenever he pleased. 

Sir Charles. He used to relate, that he was negligent 
and very low in the school, till the boy above him one 
day kicked him violently, and put him to great pain. 

Edmund. And what, sir, was the consequence of 
this kick? 

Sir Charles, That he first gave the boy a good 



SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 

thrashing, then determined to get before him in thd 
school; and that he thenceforward continued rising till 
he was the head boy. 

Edmund. It was a procedure worthy of such a 
mind as that of Xewton. 

Frederic, But I have read that no disappointments 
in the school could induce him to lay aside his mecha- 
nical amusements; but that, during the holidays, and in 
every moment allotted to play, he employed himself 
in knocking and hammering in his own room; pursuing 
the strong bent of his inclination, not only in things . 
that were serious, but even in ludicrous contrivances, 
calculated to please his school-fellow s as w ell as him- 
self. 

Edmund. He is related to have been the first who 
introduced paper kites at Grantham; and of these he 
was very studious to find the proper proportion and 
figures, and the proper place for fixing the string. 
He also made lanterns of crimpled paper, with which 
he used to go to school in winter mornings. Some of 
these he tied to the tails of his kites in dark nights^ 
by which the country people were at first greatly 
alarmed. They mistook his candles for comets. 

Mr. Allen. His contrivances were almost innumer- 
able. He was peculiarly attentive in observing the 
motion of the sun, especially in the yard of the house 
where he lived; and, into the wall and roof of the 
house, he drove pegs to mark the hours and half hours 
that were made by the shade. These, after two or 
three jears obsei^ation, he placed so exactly that no 
one was at a loss to know what o'clock it was by Isaac's 
dial, as it was generally called. 

Sir Charles. His taste for drawing, the practical 
part of wdiich he acquired wdthout any assistance, was 
equally remarkable with his mechanical indentions. 
He filled his whole room v/ith pictures executed by 
himself; some of them copied from prints, but many 
taken from life. Among others were portraits of 



B8 PHILOSOPHERS. 

several English kings, of Dr. Donne, and liis school- 
master. 

Edmund. He would often amuse himself, when 
among girls, by making for them little tables, cup- 
boards, and other play things. 

Mr. Allen. We are informed that, at one time, his 
attention was occupied in making, and that he com- 
pleted, a cart with four wheels, in which he could sit, 
and, by turning a windlass, could make it carry him 
round the house wherever he pleased. 

Lady Irwin. It would really have been lamentable, 
if so extraordinary a youth had not been educated for 
some learned profession ? 

Mr. Allen. This, however, was not his mother's inten- 
tion, for, after he had been at school a few jxars, she 
took him home to aid her in managing the business 
of a farm Avhicli she had occupied after his father's 
death. 

Lady Irwin. He must have been but a bad farmer. 

Mr. Allen. Indeed he was ; for on Saturdays, when 
he went to the market at Grantham, after he had com- 
mitted the management of selling and buying to a 
trusty servant whom his mother sent along with him, 
he seldom could resist the temptation of retiring into a 
garret of the house where he lodged, and there enter- 
taining himself with a collection of old books it con- 
tained till it was time to go home again. 

Sir Charles. He has even been known to stop by 
the way side, between his home and Grantham, and 
lie down under a hedge to study, till the man went to 
the town, transacted his business, and called for him 
in his way back. 

Frederic. I have read that, sometimes, his mother 
w ould order him to go into the fields to tend the sheep 
or corn, and that, although he performed his duty, he 
did it heavily ; his chief delight being to sit under a tree 
with a book in his hand, or to employ himself with his 
knife, in cutting wood for different kinds of models. 



SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 89 

Sometimes he would get to a stream, and there amuse 
himself in making mill-wheels. 

Mr. Allen. One of his uncles, a clergyman and a 
man of talent, having one day found him in a hay-loft, 
engaged in working a mathematical problem, was so 
much convinced of the impropriety of any longer 
restraining his natural inclinations, that he prevailed 
with his mother to send him to the university. In 
consequence of this recommendation, when he was 
eighteen years of age, he was admitted a member of 
Trinity College, Cambridge. 

Sir Charles. Newton, you see, even when a boy, 
afforded an interesting example of industry. His 
mind was constantly employed, and his occupations, 
however trifling they may have appeared in themselves, 
had all a tendency to improve his mind, and unfold 
that peculiar talent for which he was afterwards so 
celebrated. 

Lady Iricin. I am somewhat curious to know how 
he conducted himself in college. 

Mr. Allen, By now turning his thoughts to ma- 
thematical studies, he seems to have complied at 
once with the college regulations, and his own par- 
ticular taste. In his outset he is said to have taken 
up Euclid's Elements, a well knoAvn book of ancient 
geometry, and by once running his eye over it, to have 
made himself master of every proposition. After he 
had paid considerable attention to the study of geome- 
try and mathematics, he bought a prism, to try some 
experiments relative to the doctrine of colours, and 
was at first highly delighted with the vivid brightness 
of the colours that were produced by this instrument. 
The experiments he made by means of it were the 
foundation of a celebrated work which he afterwards 
published, entitled, ''A New Theory of Light and 
Colours." I do not describe the nature of his disco- 
veries : this would be foreign to the more immediate 
subject of our conversations. 

Frederic. These particular studies were much inter- 



90 PHILOSOPHERS. 

rupted during the time he was in Cambridge. By the 
breaking out of the plague he was compelled to leave 
the place; and more than two years elapsed before he 
made any further important progress in them. 

Edmund, But he did not misemploy the time during 
his absence from the university. 

Mr, Allen, It was impossible that such a youth 
could misemploy his time any where. Whilst he 
resided in the country ;, the first idea of his system of 
gravitation occurred to his mind. 

Frederic. I recollect. The falling of an apple from 
a tree, as he was sitting aione in a garden, first turned 
his thoughts seriously to this subject. 

Lady Irwin, I suppose he began to consider by 
what principle it was that the apple fell downward 
rather than upward. 

Sir Charles, Just so ; and, after unwearied investi- 
gation, he was enabled, from so apparently insignificant 
a beginning, to ascertain the principles of motion, even 
of the earth, the moon, and the planets, in their respec- 
tive orbits. 

Mr. Allen, At this period Mr, Newton was acting 
in a private sphere; but the time was approaching 
when he was to become known as a public character. 
The first step towards this was his being appointed 
Professor of Mathematics in the University of Cam- 
bridge. Not being in very affluent circumstances, he 
also obtained an eligible appointment, to the situation 
of Master of the Mint, with a salary of six hundred 
pounds a year. He subsequently received the honour 
of knighthood from Queen Anne. 

Frederic, He now lived in a handsome and liberal 
style, though without ostentation. His hospitality 
was uniform, and his charity such that scarcely any 
person, in his circumstances, is supposed to have given 
away more money in alms, during his life than he. It 
was with him a maxim, that those who gave away 
nothing till they died, never gave at all. 

Sir Charles, Notwithstanding the contempt he 



SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 01 

showed for his own money, no one ever exhibited a 
more scrupulous frugality of that which belonged to 
the public. He refused various pensions, and addi- 
tional emoluments that were, at dift'erent times, offered 
to him; and, in conducting the affairs of the mint, he 
is reported to have saved the country immense sums of 
money. 

Lady Irivin, Was not Sir Isaac Newton greatly 
esteemed by the royal family? 

Sir Charles, King George the First and his queen 
showed him many marks of attention and esteem; 
and often conversed with him for hours together. The 
queen in particular is said to have been deUghted with 
his company ; and has often been known to congratulate 
herself that she lived at the same time and in the same 
country w ith a person of such extraordinary merit. 

Mr. Allen. The honours that were paid to him from 
all parts, and by all persons, were quite extraordinary. 

Sir Charles. And yet he had so humble an opinion 
of himself, and of his own merit, that he had no relish 
for the applause which he received. 

Frederic. I have read that, when he was one day 
complimented respecting his discoveries in philosophy, 
he answered, '^ Alas ! 1 am only like a child picking 
u^ pebbles on the shore of the great ocean of truth!'' 

Edmund. One day, when a friend had expressed him- 
self in strong terms respecting his uncommon talents. Sir 
Isaac unaffectedly assured him, that, for his own part, 
he was sensible whatever he had don© worth notice 
was owing rather to patience of thought than to any 
extraordinary sagacity. '* I keep the subject,'^ said 
he, '* constantly before me, and wait till the first 
dawnings open slowly, by little and little, into a full 
and clear Ught." 

Mr. Allen. Tiie most amiable modesty was indeed 
conspicuous in the character of this astonishing man. 
He never spoke either of himself or of others in such 
manner as to give even the most malicious censurcr 



92 PHILOSOPHERS. 

occasion to suspect him of vanity. He was candid 
^nd affable in a very great degree, and did not assume 
any airs of superiority whatever over those with whom 
he associated. Sir Isaac Newton never thought either 
his merit or his reputation sufficient to excuse him 
from any of the common offices of social life. 

Sir Charles, Many amusing anecdotes have been 
related concerning the studies of this great philosopher. 

Frederic. It has been said that, whenever he was 
engaged in mathematical problems or solutions, nothing 
could induce him to quit the subject : that, in such 
case, he has sometimes risen from bed in a morning, 
and begun to dress, but that, with perhaps half his 
clothes on, be has sat down on the bed and continued 
for hours undressed. We are also told that his dinner 
has frequently waited for him two or three hours, 
before he could unbend his mind and go to it. 

Edmund. Dr. Stukeley, one of his intimate friends, 
happening one day to call upon Sir Isaac, was 
shown into the dining-room, where a boiled fowl 
had been placed under a cover. After having waited 
a considerable while, the doctor, not having dined 
himself, and finding that Sir Isaac did not make his 
appearance, sat down at the table and ate the chicken, 
putting the bones into the dish, and replacing the cover. 
After a while the philosopher came out of his study, 
and telling his friend that he was both weary and 
hungry, took up the cover, but finding that only the 
bones of the fowl were left, observed, with a smile, 
that he '' thought he had not dined, but he found he 
was mistaken." 

Frederic. So mild and amiable was his temper, that 
scarcely any accident could disturb it. One day, 
having been called out of his study into an adjacent 
room, a favourite little dog, named Diamond, threw 
down a lighted candle upon his papers, by which the 
almost finished labours of many years were consumed. 
When Sir Isaac returned, and saw the injury he had 



SIR ISAAC NEWTON. i)S 

sustained, lie merely rebuked the dog, by exclaiming, 
" O Diamond ! Diamond ! thou little knowest the mis- 
chief thou hast done !" 

M)\ Allen. The life of Sir Isaac Newton is described 
to have been an almost uninterrupted series of labour, 
patience, charity, generosity, temperance, and piety. 

Lady Irwin. What Avere his religious opinions ? 
For the opinions of such a man, whose mind could 
only be influenced by a love of truth, must be well 
deserving of attention. 

Mr. Allen. He was convinced of the truth of Reve- 
lation, from a close and attentive examination into the 
evidences on which it is founded ; for, among the great 
variety of books that he had constantly before him, 
that which he studied with the greatest application, 
was the Bible. His firm faith in Divine Revelation 
discovered itself in the most genuine fruits of sub- 
stantial virtue and piety. Among other works, he 
wrote a discourse to prove that the remarkable pro- 
phecy of Daniel's weeks was an express prediction of 
the coming of the Messiah, and that it was fulfilled in 
Jesus Christ. 

Lady Irwin. Was he not a verv old man when he 
died? 

Mr, Allen. When first seriously attacked by disease 
he was in his eightieth year. Until this time he had 
been blessed with a healthy and vigorous constitution, 
and had even the bloom and colour of youth. He 
had never worn spectacles, nor had he lost more than 
one tooth during his whole life. But, after this, he 
frequently suffered the most excruciating pains; he, 
however, bore them with perfect resignation ; and, 
though they would occasionally cause large drops of 
perspiration to run down his face, he was never heard 
to utter the least complaint, nor to express the least 
impatience. 

Lady Incin. How long, sir, did he continue in this 
state ? 

Mr. Allen. He suffered, atinvervals, for nearly fi^e 



94 PHILOSOPHERS. 

years; but liis death was, at last, somewliat sudden. 
On the morning of the eighteenth of March, 1727, 
he was able to read the newspapers, and he conversed 
a long time with his physician, in the perfect possession 
of his faculties. Before night, however, he became 
insensible, and continued so until his death, w hich took 
place two days afterwards. Though he left consider- 
able property, his remains were interred at the public 
expense, in Westminster Abbey. 

Sir Charles, Dr. Johnson was known to have said 
of Sir Isaac Newton that, had he flourished in ancient 
Greece, he would have been worshipped as a divinity. 
Of his astonishing mathematical and philosophical dis- 
coveries, which have been called, by way of distinction, 
the Newtonian discoveries, it would be impossible, in 
the course of our short conversation, to give any satis- 
factory accomit. It has been remarked, that if all 
philosophy and mathematics were to be considered as 
consisting of ten parts, nine of these would be found 
of Sir Isaac Newton's discovery and invention. His, 
whole works were collected by Dr. Horsley, and pub- 
lished, in the year 1779, in five volumes in quarto. 



DIVINES. 



FOURTEENTH EVENING. 

As Edmund Irwin surveyed the books in Sir Charles's 
library, he could not refrain from expressing his admi- 
ration of the numerous advantages which had been 
conferred upon mankind by the art of printing. Mr. 
Allen asked him if he knew any thing respecting the 
origin of that art. On stating that he understood it 
had been invented in Germany, about three hundred 
and seventy years ago, Mr. Allen corrected his error, 
and said that printing, from wooden blocks, had been 
practised in China for many centuries. He observed 
that, when printing was first introduced into Europe, 
a similar kind of wooden blocks had been used ; that, 
on these, the letters of a whole page were carved; and 
that, for some time, it was customary to print only on 
one side of the paper, and then to paste the blank 
sides together, Avhich made them appear as one leaf. 
After a while the printers began to reflect that, by 
printing on both sides, they should not only save half 
the paper they then used, but also the labour and 
inconvenience of pasting, and that, at the same time, 
they should improve the appearance of their books. 
In the course of a few years they consequently effected 
this important reformatiqn. 

Lady Irwin expressed herself desirous of being- 
informed in what manner the letters, if cut in wood, 
were prevented from sometimes breaking off. Mr. 
Allen replied, that it was the inconvenience arising 
from tliis which, at length, caused the introduction of 
moveable types formed of metal, similar to those now 
in use. 



96 DIVINES. 

Her ladyship was aware that William Caxtoii, a 
citizen and mercer of London, had first introduced 
the art of printing into this country from the continent, 
and had practised it in the reign of Edward the Fourth; 
hut she wished to know what kind of books were first 
printed here. 

Mr, Allen. The first book that Caxton printed in 
England was called the ^* Game of Chess ;" this was 
finished in the abbey of Westminster, on the last day 
of March, 1474. He then printed a work called, the 
" Book of Jason," and after this another, entitled, 
'*The Dictes and Sayings of the Philosophers." Many 
of the books that were printed about, and after the time 
of the Reformation, were on the subject of divinity. 

Frederic. Will you tell me, sir, if any of the 
writings of John Wickliffe were among the early 
printed books? The pleasure I have experienced in 
contemplating the character and intrepid conduct. of 
this great reformer, makes me desirous of knowing 
this. 

Mr. Allen. His celebrated treatise against the 
Jlomish Sacraments, called, '' Wycklyffe's Wycket," 
was printed at Nuremberg, in 1546, and one of his 
other works was published in London about four years 
afterwards. You must be aware they could not have 
been printed during his life time. 

Frederic. Certainly not, because he lived before the 
art of printing had been introduced into Europe. He 
was born as early as the year 1324. 

Sir Charles. What place, Frederic, had the honour 
of giving birth to this man, whose transcendent abili- 
ties, and persevering energy, have procured for our 
island the enviable distinction of having been the first 
to break the chains Avhich superstition and an hypo- 
critical policy had imposed upon the powers of the 
human mind? 

Frederic. He was born at a village called Wicliffe, 
near the town of Richmond, in Yorkshire. 

Sir Charles next inquired whether either Frederic 



JOHN WICKLIFFE. i)7 

or Edmund had been able to collect any particulars 
relative to the education and early habits of Wick- 
lifFe ; but they had learnt nothing further than that his 
parents had been persons in an humble station of life, 
that he had early exhibited traits of transcendent 
talent, and had been educated first in Queen's, and 
afterwards in Merton College, Oxford. Frederic, 
however, remarked, that, whilst in the university, he 
attained great celebrity, for his acquirements in phi- 
losophy and divinity : that he excelled all his fellow- 
students in wit and argument, and also acquired an 
extensive knowledge of the laws of his countTy. He 
further observed, that WicklifFe was not more than 
thirty-tsvo years of age when he first became the cham- 
pion of Protestantism. His great celebrity caused 
him to be appointed Master of Baliol College, Oxford, 
and afterwards Warden of Canterbmy Hall, in the 
same university. When he began to preach against 
the abuses then prevalent in the Romish Church, he 
did it with so much energy, and with such astonishing 
success, that the progress of his opinions was accounted 
little less than miraculous. Tiie Avriters of his own 
time, though monks, and consequently inimical to his 
doctrines, assure us that, in the course of ten or eleven 
years, almost half the people of England had become 
converts to his preaching. 

Edmund. After the death of Islip, Archbishop of 
Canterbury, who had personally befriended him, and 
who appears tacitly to have favoured his doctrines, 
Wickliffe was removed from the wardensliip of Canter- 
bury Hall. 

Frederic. But he was, in some measure, compensated 
for this loss, by the patronage of Edward the Third, 
whose resistance of the exactions of the pope upon 
the British dominions Wickliffe had defended with 
great ability. Edward appointed him his chaplain, 
and, through the interest of John of Ghaunt, Duke of 
Lancaster, he obtained the living of Lutterworth, in 



98 JilVlMES. 

Ijeicestersliire. Tims supported, he boldly exposed 
the pride, the avarice, extortion, and tyranny of the 
Church of Rome. 

Mr, Allen, The consequence of which was, that a 
little before the death of Edward the Third, the pope 
sent orders that he should be called to account for 
heretical opinions. He was summoned to appear 
before the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of 
London. He went to the conference, attended by the 
Duke of Lancaster and other powerful friends; and 
no censure whatever was passed upon him. 

Frederic. After this WicklifFe translated both the 
Bible and Testament into the English language. 

Mr. Allen. In what language had they previously 
been used ; and indeed in what language are they to 
this day used in Roman Catholic countries ? 

Frederic, In Latin ; which appears to me very 
absurd, as not one person in a thousand of those who 
are interested in their contents, is able to understand 
them in that language. 

Mr. Allen. WicklifFe contended for the necessity of 
using the Scriptures in English ; affirming that the will 
of God was evidently revealed in them ; and that, as 
they contained the rules by which mankind were to 
live, and to attain the kingdom of heaven, every one 
ought to be acquainted with them. 

Edmund. Are there any copies of Wickliffe's trans- 
lation yet extant ? 

Mr. Allen. Yes, several; in the British Museum, 
and other public and private collections. His transla- 
tion of the New Testament has lately been printed in 
a quarto volume. Inform us, Frederic, respecting his 
death. 

Frederic. About two years before he died, WicklifFe 
suffered much from an attack of the palsy; and, 
nearly at the same time, the pope cited him to appear 
at the court of Rome, to answer there for his doctrines, 
and for the principles which he had instilled into the 



THOMAiJ CRANMEK. 09 

minds of the people against the Papists. To this cita- 
tion he sent an excuse, pleading that '* Christ had 
taught him to obey God rather than man." He was 
seized with a second fit of the palsy on Innocents' 
day, 1384, as he was performing divine service in his 
church of Lutterworth; and he soon afterwards ex- 
pired, in the sixtieth year of his age. 

Sir Charles. What occurrence afterwards took place 
respecting him? 

Frederic, He had lain in the grave betwixt forty 
and fifty years, when the Papists caused his bones to 
be dug up and burnt, and the ashes to be thrown into 
an adjacent brook. 

Sir Charles. This was contemptible conduct indeed ; 
because it could neither serve the cause of popery, 
nor, in any respect, operate as a punishment of Wick- 
liffe* The Papists had not dared to punish him during 
his Ufe, and now, after his death, they sought to wreak 
their vengeance on his bones. 



FIFTEENTH EVENING. 

On the name of Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of 
Canterbury, another of the Reformers of the Church 
of England, being mentioned, Edmimd said that, from 
Strype's Memorials of that prelate, it appears that 
he had been the son of a gentleman of indepen- 
dent fortune, and born at a place called Aslaxton, 
in Nottinghamshire, on the second of July, 1489. ^He 
further observed, that he had been educated in gram- 
mar by a rude and severe parish clerk, from whom he 
learned little, and endured much ; and that, when four- 
teen years of age, he was admitted a student of Jesus 
College, Cambridge, where he distinguished himself 
F 2 



100 DIVINES. 

by unwearied application to literary pursuits, and soon 
excelled all his fellow students in learning. 

Frederic. He continued to reside in Cambridge for 
several years ; and was appointed reader of the theo- 
logical lecture in liis own college, and one of the 
examiners of those persons who took the degrees in 
divinity. 

Sir Charles, How came he to be advanced to the 
archbishopric of Canterbury? 

Edmund. In the presence of two of the officers of 
the court he was heard to reason so learnedly in favour 
of the divorce of Henry the Eighth from his queen, 
that he was sent for to court, appointed chaplain to 
the king, and obtained several successive preferments, 
until he succeeded to the high dignity respecting which 
you have inquired. 

Frederic. It was at the recommendation, and under 
the immediate superintendence of Cranmer, that the 
Bible was first printed and published in the English 
language. 

Edmund. Yes, he was a very active and diligent 
reformer of the errors and corruptions of the Romish 
Church. The consequence of which was that he was 
accused of heresy in the house of commons ; but Henry 
soon put a stop to the prosecution, by a peremptory 
order that his accuser should go to him, apologize for 
his conduct, and entreat to be reconciled to him, which 
he accordingly did. 

Mr. Allen, The disposition of Cranmer was mild 
and forgiving. 

Edmund. So much so, that it became a commoti 
saying, '' If you only do my Lord of Canterbury one 
shrewd turn, you make him your friend for ever." 

Frederic. And yet in a lew instances his conduct 
was far from having been humane. In the reign of 
Edward the Sixth, who was a Protestant prince, and 
consequently a favourer of the Reformation, Cranmer 
was, in some particulars, himself a persecutor. Several 



THOMAS CRANMER. 101 

persons, who would not conform to the then establislied 
doctrine and discipline of the church, he caused to be 
treated Avith great harshness ; and, to his eternal dis- 
grace, Cranmer himself passed sentence of death on a 
poor woman, Joan Boscher, who had deserved pity 
rather than punishment. Edward objected to sign the 
warrant for her execution; and at last signed it with 
tears in his eyes, protesting, that ** if he had done 
wrong, it was in submission to the authority of the 
archbishop, who must answer for it to God." 

Mr, Allen. Such conduct is much indeed to be 
lamented, particularly in a man like Cranmer, who 
had witnessed, and had himself condemned the con- 
duct of the Papists in their persecution of the Protes- 
tants. The time was, however, fast approaching in 
which he was to suiFer for his own religious opi- 
nions. 

Frederic, On the accession of Queen Mary, whose 
principles were known to be directly opposite to 
those of the Reformation, Cranmer was himself ac- 
cused, and committed a prisoner to the Tower. He 
was tried, found guilty, and condemned to be burnt as 
a heretic and a traitor. 

Mr, Allen, After his condemnation, do you recollect 
the mode in which he was degraded from his high 
office ? 

Frederic, I do, sir. To render him as contemptible 
as possible in the eyes of the people, he was robed in 
a mock episcopal habit, made of canvas. After this, 
he had, put upon him, an old thread-bare gown, and a 
town's-man's coat, and, in that garb, was delivered to 
the secular powers. 

Edmund, And how despicably did his enemies be- 
have towards him! As he was led to prison, a gentle- 
man came to the bailiffs, and gave them some money, 
to be expended in procuring him a few comforts. For 
this charitable act he was ordered to be seized ; and, had 
he not found powerful intercessors, would, no doubt, 
have been tried for so suspicious an act of benevolence. 



102 DIVINES, 

Sir Charles, It was not long after this that human 
frailty induced the archbishop to commit what he sub- 
sequently felt to be the greatest blemish of his life. 

Frederic. Yes ; through flatteries, promises, threats, 
and the fear of death, he was prevailed with, by his 
enemies, to sign certain documents, acknowledging a 
belief in the Romish religion. But his recantation 
availed him nothing; for, though the express con- 
dition on which it was made, was that he should 
be pardoned; this was only a snare laid by his 
persecutors. The queen herself was the first to 
declare that ** his recanting must not serve his 
turn. It was indeed good for his soul,'' she said, 
'' that he had repented, and it might do good to others, 
but the sentence against him must be executed." After 
his condemnation he was sent to, Oxford, and impri- 
soned there. The warrant for his execution was then 
made out, but he was kept in ignorance of it, under 
an apprehension that he might otherwise retract what 
he had lately been induced to sign. 

Sir Charles. And what occurred respecting his exe- 
cution ? 

Frederic, On the day appointed for it, a sermon was 
preached on the occasion, by one of the Popish doc- 
tors; and, after the sermon, Cranmer was desired to 
make a public declaration of his faith. 

Sir Charles: And what was the tenor of this decla- 
ration ? 

Frederic. He first exhorted the people to obedience 
to the queen ; then repeated the Apostles' Creed, and 
professed his belief of it, and of all things contained 
in the Old and New Testaments; after which he ex- 
pressed his unfeigned repentance for having, contrary 
to his conviction of the truth, subscribed his name to 
tiie Popish doctrines. He declared that, '' the hand 
which had so offended, should be burnt before the rest 
of his body." 

Edmund. This must indeed have been a mortifying 
disappointment to the Papists* They immediately 



THOMAS CRAN^1ER. 103 

made loud clamours, and charged him with hypo- 
crisy and falsehood ; but he meekly replied, ** That he 
was a plain man, and had never acted the hypocrite, 
except when he had been seduced by them to recant." 
I could wish he had on this occasion recollected his 
own cruel treatment of Joan Boscher. 

Mr, Allen. His conduct at the stake was truly 
exemplary. 

Frederic, Yes; he approached the place of execu- 
tion with a cheerful countenance, still declaring his 
utter abhorrence of the errors of Popery. After 
having undressed himself, he took leave of his friends, 
and was bound to the stake. As soon as the fire was 
kindled, he stretched out his right arm, and held it 
steadily, and without shrinking, in the flame, till it was 
consumed, frequently exclaiming, ** this unworthy hand ! 
this unworthy hand!" At last, raising his eyes towards 
heaven, he expired, with Stephen's dying words upon 
his lips, ** Lord Jesus receive my spirit.'' This was 
in the year 1555, and the sixty-seventh of his age. 

Edmund, I am desirous of asking Mr. Allen what, 
upon the whole, is his opinion respecting the character 
of Archbishop Cranmer ? 

Mr, Allen, That, in most respects, he was both a 
good and a great man. His temper was mild and 
cheerful, and his manners, both in public and private, 
were pleasing and amiable. He was kind and con- 
siderate to his dependants, and, on all occasions, liberal 
and compassionate towards the poor. He, however, 
failed in tlie two important particulars which have 
been mentioned. In his recantation particularly he 
sinks in estimation far below his gentle and inflexible 
fellow-sufferer, Latimer. 

Sir Charles, Mr. Allen will probably state to us 
what writings of the archbishop are still extant. 

Mr, Allen, The '' Book of Homilies," as it is called, 
which was printed and ordered to be occasionally read 
in churches, in place of sermons, was drawn up chiefly 



104 DIVINES. 

by him. He likervvise published a ** Catechism, or 
Short Instructions in the Christian Religion, for the 
Use of Children and Young Persons;" several letters; 
and many theological and controversial tracts. His 
writings were chiefly confined to the great controversy 
which then subsisted, and contain the whole sum of 
the theological learning of those times. He was a sen- 
sible writer, but his style is to be considered rather as 
nervous than elegant. 

Frederic. Latimer was a fellow-sufferer with the 
archbishop. If the evening be not too far advanced, 
1 am sure Sir Charles Irwin will not object to his 
being now introduced. Edmund and I are each ac- 
quainted with the most important particulars of his 
life. 

Sir Charles, The two characters are so closely 
connected, that I think we may with advantage 
discuss them both in the same evening. They will 
not, I dare say, be found to occupy too much of our 
time. 

At the request of Mr. Allen, Frederic stated, 
that this pious divine, Hugh Latimer, afterwards 
Bishop of Worcester, was born about the year 1470, 
at Thurcaston, in the county of Leicester; where 
his father had rented a small farm, and, by frugality 
and industry, had brought up a family of six daughters, 
besides this son, whom he was enabled to educate in 
the university of Cambridge. 

And pray, Frederic, inquired Mr. Allen, what were 
the religious opinions of Latimer in the early part of 
Lis Hfe? 

Frederic, Long after he had been admitted into 
orders, he was a zealous defender of Popery, at that 
time the established rehgion of the country. He read 
the writings of the Romish divines, and the Scrip- 
tures, with nearly equal reverence ; and held Thomas 
a Becket and the apostles in equal honour. 



HUGH LATIMER. 105 

Mi\ Allen, Then he was an opponent of those 
principles of Reformation, which were gradually 
bringing about the establishment of the Protestant 
faith. 

Frederic, He was; and, like St. Paul with the early 
Christians, he omitted no opportunity of preventing 
the Reformers from making converts to their opinions; 
and so much was his zeal in favour of Popery applauded 
by the university, that he was elected cross-bearer, in all 
public processions ; an employment, the ceremonies or 
duties of which, he is said to have discharged with 
peculiar solemnity. 

Sir Charles. This appears somewhat strange. How 
came he afterwards to pursue a course so opposite ? 

Edmund. By conversing with a clergyman of piety 
and integrity, one of the Reformers, he at length 
became convinced that many of the important tenets of 
the Catholics did not accord with the principles of 
Christianity. From this period he became a zealous 
Protestant; and was extremely active in preaching, 
and otherwise propagating, the doctrines of the reformed 
religion. 

Mr. Allen, And what were the more immediate 
consequences of such procedure ? 

Edmund. What any one would imagine. He cre- 
ated numerous and powerful enemies wherever he 
went. Yet he was much followed by the people, to 
whose capacities he had a peculiar facility of adapting 
his discourses. Latimer was acknowledged, even by 
his opponents, to have been one of the most powerful 
and eloquent preachers in the kingdom. 

Frederic, Wolsey, who was at that time the Lord 
Chancellor, was requested, by the monks, to prevent his 
preaching, but, instead of so doing, he gave him a spe- 
cial licence to preach wherever he pleased. On several 
occasions Latimer preached before the king, who per- 
sonally favoured him ; and, in more than one instance, 
rescued him from the hands of his enemies. By the 
recommendation of the prime minister, Cromwell, a 
f3 



106 DIVINES. 

secret friend of the Reformation, he was created Bishop 
of Worcester. 

Sir Charles. How did he conduct himself in this 
situation ? 

Frederic, He was active and resolute in performing 
the duties of his office. It is said that, in his visita- 
tions, he was frequent and attentive; in ordaining, 
strict and wary; in preaching, indefatigable; and in 
reproving and exhorting, severe and persuasive. 

Sir Charles, Do there not appear good reasons for 
supposing him to have been a strictly conscientious man? 

Frederic, There do ; many. 

Edmund, I will mention one. As he could not, 
conscientiously, assent to certain articles which had 
passed both the houses of parliament, he determined to 
resign his bishopric. On returning from the house of 
lords, he sent in his resignation, threw off his robes, 
and then declared, to those around him, that, *'he felt 
lighter than he had ever felt before." 

Sir Charles, This story is by no means an improba- 
ble one. It is much in character with that vein of 
pleasantry which accompanied most of the serious 
actions of his life. But I wish to ask whether Lati- 
mer was not afterwards restored to his bishopric ? 

Edmund, He was not, sir. When Edward the Sixth 
came to the throne, it was proposed to reinstate him ; 
but Latimer excused himself, alleging his advanced age, 
and the necessity of privacy and quiet, for the com- 
fort of his declining life. 

Sir Charles, From this time then, I may suppose he 
w as not much heard of even as a preacher. 

Edmund, The duty of propagating the principles of 
the Reformation he considered paramount to every 
other, or even to his love of retirement ; and nothing 
could induce him to cease from exerting himself in 
that. 

Frederic, During the three first years of the reign 
ol' Edward tlie Sixth, he was appointed to preach cer- 
tain sermons before the kiiig. And such crowds, ou 



HUGH LATIMER. 107 

these occasions, flocked to hear him tliat, we are in- 
formed, it was necessary to remove the pulpit out oi* 
the royal chapel, into the privy garden. 

Mr. Allen, In these sermons, Latimer attacked the 
vices and corruptions of the great with honest freedom. 
He charged them, in particular, with covetousness, 
bribery, and extortion; and this so emphatically, that 
it was impossible, by any self deceit, to avoid the 
direct application of his reproofs to themselves. Many 
of his sermons, which are still extant, have great sim- 
plicity and familiarity. They contain a singular vein 
of humour, and his peculiar style of eloquence was, in 
that day, exceedingly popular. His action and maimer 
of preaching are said also to have been very affecting; 
for he spoke immediately from the heart, and exerted 
a noble and apostolic zeal in the cause of truth. 

After a life of indefatigable labour, the time at last 
approached which was to try the sincerity of his pro- 
fessions. 

Edmund. On the accession of Queen Mary, he 
was cited to appear before a council in London. After 
he had received this notice, however, opportunity 
was purposely given him to escape from the king- 
dom, but he did not choose to do so : on the contrary, 
he immediately prepared himself to obey the sum 
mons. 

Frederic. We are told that, in his journey, he had to 
pass through Smithfield, the place where heretics, as 
they were called, had usually been burnt. ** Ah ! (said 
he cheerfully to those who accompanied him) this place 
has long groaned for me." 

Mr, Allen. He w as committed to the Tower of 
London, and even there his hilarity did not forsake 
him, A servant belonging to the Tower, one cold day, 
entering his apartment, Latimer bid him '*tell his mas- 
ter that, unless he took better care, he should cer- 
tainly escape him." The message was delivered, and 
the lieutenant of the Tower, with some discomposure, 



103 DIVINES. 

hastened to Latimer, to request an explanation of tlie 
message. " Why you expect, I suppose, master Lieu- 
tenant (replied the divine) that I shall be burnt ; now 
I can tell you, if you do not allow me a little fire this 
frosty weather, I shall first be starved." 

Edmund, Latimer was at this time near eighty years 
of age. Such treatment, towards so old a man, must 
therefore have been peculiarly cruel. 

Sir Charles, As companions in prison, he was accom- 
panied by Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, and 
Ridley, Bishop of London, who were imprisoned on 
similar allegations with Latimer. They were all closely 
confined in one apartment, and were denied the use of 
pens, ink, and paper. 

Frederic, And in this comfortless situation, it is 
stated, that their chief resource was prayer, in which 
they passed a great part of every day. They were all 
afterwards, I think, removed to Oxford. 

Mr, Allen. They were so; and when Latimer was 
taken before the commissioners that had been appointed 
for his examination, he was introduced in his prison 
attire. The venerable old man had a cap on his head, 
buttoned under his chin, a pair of spectacles hanging 
at his breast, a New Testament under his arm, and a 
staff in his hand. 

Edmund, I cannot exactly call to mind the mode of 
his defence. 

Mr, Allen. Knowing that, in consequence of his 
abilities having been impaired by age, it would be im- 
possible for him to recollect all the reasons by which 
he had been directed in the choice of his religion, he 
declined entering into au}^ defence wliatever of his 
principles. To this he was the more induced by 
being aware that, even the most unexceptionable de- 
fence, would have been of little avail with judges so 
prejudiced as he knew his to be. 

Edmund, He was pronounced guilty, and condemned 
to be burnt. 



HUGH LATIMER. !O0 

Frederic, On >vhichhe calmly exclaimed, " I tliank 
God most heartily that he hath prolonged my life to 
this end." 

Mr, Allen. Will you, Frederic, relate the particulars 
of his execution? 

Frederic, He and Ridley, who was ordered for 
execution at the same time, were taken from their 
prison to a place on the north side of Oxford, near 
Baliol College; Ridley in his episcopal habit, and 
Latimer in his prison dress. After some previous 
devotion and ceremonies, they prepared themselves for 
the stake. Latimer, having thrown off the old gown 
that was wrapped about him, appeared in a shrowd. 
They were perfectly resigned, and supported each 
other's constancy by mutual exhortations. They were 
then fastened by a chain to a large stake driven into the 
groimd, and a great number of faggots were piled round 
them. When the faggots were lighted, Latimer said 
to his fellow sufferer, ''Be of good cheer, brother; we 
shall this day kindle such a torch in England, as I 
trust in God shall never be extinguished." He com- 
mended his soul to his Maker, and the executioners 
having tied bags of gunpowder round their bodies, he 
was killed, by the explosion of these, almost immedi- 
ately afterwards. 

Mr, Allen, There are extant, by Bishop Latuner, 
several sermons, first published in a collection in the 
year 1549> and afterwards several times reprinted. 
Some of his letters are printed in Fox's work, entitled 
*' The Acts and Monuments of the British Martyrs." 



SIXTEENTH EVENING. 

A SHORT discussion this evening took place respecting 
the persons who, in future, should become the subjects 
of attention. Frederic mentioned the names of several 
eminent divines, but observed, that the incidents which. 



liO DlViJSES. 

have been recorded of their lives, did not appear to 
him either so interesting, or, on the whole, so instruc- 
tive, as those of many whose celebrity had not been so 
great. He inquired whether it might not therefore be 
advisable, as a general rule, for the future, to select 
such lives only, as were in themselves instructive, in 
preference to those of persons merely celebrated for 
the eminence of their public character. Sir Charles 
Irwin, and Mr. Allen, Avere each of opinion that such 
Y/ould be the best mode, particularly as it would be 
impossible to discuss, in the whole, a great number 
of lives. In compliance with this plan, Edmund pro- 
posed for the present evening, the life of John Jewel, 
Bishop of Salisbury, who lived in the sixteenth cen- 
tury. 

Frederic, Bishop Jewel was descended from an 
ancient family in Devonshire, and born on the twenty- 
fourth of May, 1552. He was taught the rudiments 
of grammar chiefly in a school at Barnstaple in Devon- 
shire; and, in his fourteenth year, was admitted a 
student at Merton College, and afterwards a scholar of 
Corpus Christi College, Oxford, 

Edmund, Few young men could be more exemplary 
in their conduct, or more indefatigable in their studies, 
than Mr. Jewel. 

Frederic, The dean of his college, who was a rigid 
Papist, was accustomed to say of him, *' In thy faith 
I hold thee to be an heretic ; but surely, in thy life 
thou art an angel ; thou art good and honest, but thou 
art a Lutheran.'^ 

Edmund. With respect to his studies, he is said to 
have risen generally as early as four in the morning, 
and to have continued at his books till ten at night, 
with an earnestness of attention which, in many 
instances, made it necessary even to remind him of the 
hours of refreshment. 

Sir Charles, This was more than could with reason 
have been expected. 

Mr. Allen, It v/as so; for although, by such appli- 



JOHN JEWEL. Ill 

cation lie acquired an astonishing fund of knowledge, 
it was at the expense of his health; for, in consequence 
of a neglected cold, he contracted a lameness in one of 
his legs which hecaine incurable, and continued until 
his death. 

Edmund. It must have been exti'emely gratifying to 
him that he should have become eminently qualified 
for two situations which he obtained, of Tutor, and Pro- 
fessor of Rhetoric, in his college. These he continued 
to fill, with distinguished honour, for several years. 

Sir Charles, Frederic has given us to understand 
that Jewel, in his religious faith, accorded with the 
Reformers. How, in such case, came he to have these 
offices committed to him ? 

Edmund, It does not appear that he had liitherto 
professed the tenets of the Reformers, though he seems 
privately to have favoured them ; and his known learn- 
ing, and unexceptionable moral character, caused him 
to be esteemed by all. During the reign of Edward 
the Sixth, however, he became active in the cause of 
the Reformation. 

Sir Charles, What befel him in the reign of Mary? 

Edmund, He was expelled from his college, and a 
plot was laid to deUver him into the hands of the 
Papists, by Avhom probably he would have suffered 
death; but he contrived to escape. 

Sir Charles, By what means ? 

Edmund. The very night in which it was concerted 
to send him to prison, he privately set out from 
Oxford; and, pursuing his journey on foot, went by 
unfrequented roads towards London. He walked on 
till he was compelled to lie down on the ground, 
breathless and exhausted. In this situation he was 
providentially fo md by a Swiss gentleman, who had 
formerly been in the service of Bishop Latimer; and 
who procured for him a horse, and accompanied him 
to the house of a lady of the neighbourhood. By this 
lady he was for some time hospitably entertained, and 
afterwards privat^^ly conveyed to London. 



112 DIVINES. 

Sir Charles. It might be imagined that London was 
a place peculiarly dangerous for him, since the emissa- 
ries of his enemies would there be doubly active in 
search of him. 

Edmund, They were so; and it was only by the 
most studied precaution that he eluded their activity. 
He could not long remain in one place ; and was, 
several different times, compelled to change his lodging 
in the night. But his escape to the continent was at 
last happily eflected by the care of his friend Sir 
Nicholas Tiirogmorton, who caused a vessel to be 
provided for him, and furnished him with money for 
his support. 

Frederic. The death of Mary, and the accession of 
Queen Elizabeth to the throne, induced all the Pro- 
testant exiles, and Mr. Jewel among them, to return 
to their country ; and, in the year 1560, he was created 
Bishop of Salisbury. 

Mr. Allen. Do you recollect, Frederic, how he con- 
ducted himself as a prelate 1 

Frederic. He was unwearied in the performance of 
his duty ; and his exertions were of the most extraor- 
dinary kind. He rose about four in the morning. At 
five he summoned his household to prayers. At six he 
attended public worship in his cathedral. The remain- 
der of the morning he passed in the most intense study. 
He dined at twelve, and after dinner devoted his time 
to the public. About nine in the evening he called his 
servants to an account how they had spent the day ; 
and then went to prayers with them, and the other 
branches of his family. After this he again withdrew^ 
into his study, where he continued till midnight. He 
then retired to bed, and generally one of his chaplains 
read to him until he fell asleep. 

Edmund. It was impossible tliat any man leading so 
laborious a life, w^ithout recreation, and with little rest, 
could long continue in health. This incessant fatigue 
gradually undermined his constitution, and \^as ihe 
cause of a decay, which, at length terminated in his 



JOHN JEWEL. li:i 

death, in the month of September, 1571, and the fiftieth 
year of his age. 

Sir Charles, Bishop Jewel was celebrated for having 
possessed a peculiarly retentive memory. 

Frederic, Few men could recollect things so well as 
he ; and tliis excellent memory must have been pecu- 
liarly advantageous in his incessant pursuit of know- 
ledge. We are informed that he could readily repeat 
any tiling that he had written, after once reading it. 
His OAvn sermons are said to have been almost 
always delivered extempore, from heads which he had 
previously written dovm, and on which he was accus- 
tomed to meditate while the bell was ringing for church. 
On a particular occasion he communicated the mode 
in which he was able to do this, to his college tutor, 
Dr. Parkhurst; and this gentleman, in the course of 
twenty-eight days, with only one hour's application 
each day, learned the whole of St. Matthew's Gospel 
by heart, so perfectly, that he could repeat it verbatim 
from beginning to end ; or, he could repeat any parti- 
cular verse, immediately pointing out what went before, 
and what followed. 

Edmund. Bishop Jewel has been known to say that, 
if it had been necessary for him to have delivered a 
premeditated speech before ten thousand auditors, 
shouting or fighting during the whole time, they would 
not have confused nor put him out. 

Frederic, When he was a young man, Bishop 
Hooper, to ascertain the strength of his memory, wrote 
down about forty Welsh and Irish words. Mr. Jewel, 
after having attentively read them twice or thrice over, 
said them by heart both backward and forward. At 
another time he did the same by ten English lines, which 
were read to him for that purpose, by the Lord Keeper 
Bacon. He repeated these not only in order, but even 
confusedly and without order; and this without either 
error or hesitation. 

Sir Charles, All this is certainly very remarkable ; 
but if I may be allowed for a few minutes to interrupt 



114 BlVINES. 

the account of Bishop Jewel, I think I can mention 
an instance of memory much more remarkable than 
his. 

Edmund and Frederic, Pray let us hear it, sir. 

Sir Charles, In the Gentleman's Magazine for the 
year 1752, it is stated that William Lyon, a player 
who performed at the theatre in Edinburgh, wagered 
a bowl of punch that, on the following morning, he 
would repeat tiie whole of a newspaper, called the 
Daily Advertiser, from beginning to end. Tn the 
morning, his opponent, reminded of the wager, and 
imagining him to have been intoxicated the night 
before, rallied him on his absurd boasting. The man, 
however, pulled the newspaper out of his pocket, 
and desired his companion to look at it, and judge 
whether he should or should not win his wager. Not- 
withstanding the unconnected matter of the several 
paragraphs, the variety of advertisements, and the mis- 
cellaneous mass of materials contained in it, he is said 
to have repeated the whole, -from beginning to end, 
without mistake. 

Edmund and Frederic. This must have been indeed 
astonishing! 

Sir Charles, 1 will not further interrupt the discus- 
sion. Mr. Allen may probably be desirous of speaking 
of the character and writings of Bishop Jewel. 

Mr, Allen, Respecting these I have but few words 
to say. Both his moral and religious conduct, we are 
informed, were highly exemplary ; the command of his 
passions was wonderful; and his temper and disposition 
invariably meek, modest, and obliging. To the poor 
he was humane and charitable ; and he was liberal 
to all in distress, whether natives or foreigners. He 
was the author, among various other theological publi- 
cations, of a celebrated work against the Papists, 
entitled *' An Apology for the English Church/' which 
was published in Latin, and v/as afterwards translated 
into English, by the mother of Sir Francis Bacon. 



ISAAC BARROW. 115 



SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 

Before the discussion for this evening commenced, 
Frederic Montaga stated, that, he and Edmund had 
found considerable difficulty as to the class in which 
they ought to introduce an eminent British divine, 
whose philosophical acquirements had been superior to 
those of most modern philosophers; and yet, whose 
.sermons and other works on divinity had also attained 
a veiy high degree of eminence. He alluded to Dr. 
Isaac Barrow. Edmund was of opinion that this 
A\ riter ought to have been introduced among the philo- 
sophers, into conversation some evenings ago. Sir 
Charles Irwin observed that this might have been 
done, but that, as he had equal celebrity as a divine, 
he might without impropriety be introduced among the 
divines ; and proposed that he should be spoken of 
now. 

This arrangement having been agreed upon, Frede- 
ric said, he supposed it would be requisite to state at 
the outset who he was : that his father had been a 
citizen of London, linen draper to King Charles the 
First, and that he had himself been born in London, 
in the year 1630. 

On Mr. Allen remarking that the early part of his 
education had not been very promising, Edmund stated 
that, during two or tlnree years in which he was at the 
Charter-house school, his conduct and character had 
been such as to afford but little prospect of success 
in the profession of a scholar, for which his father had 
intended him. 

Frederic, His disposition was quarrelsome and 
riotous; and his chief delight seems to have been in 
inducing the boys to fight with each other. He was 
extixmely negligent of his clothes, and, what was 
worse, of his books. 

Sir Charks, How mortifying must such an outset iu 



116 DIVINES. 

life have been to a parent who was anxiously desirous 
for the welfare of his child ! 

Mr. Allen. His father had often been heard rashly 
to express a wish that, if it should please God to take 
away any of his children, it might be his son Isaac ; 
so vain is man's judgment, and so short-sighted is he as 
to what may eventually turn out to his own benefit. 
On young Barrow being removed from the Charter- 
house to another school, his disposition took a more 
happy turn, and he made a rapid progress in learning. 
Frederic. He perfectly overcame all his inclination 
to quarrelling; but he retained great personal bravery 
through his whole life. 

Edmund. I will presently mention a remarkable 
instance of t is. 

Sir Charles. At the age of about fifteen he was sent 

to Trinity College, Cambridge 

Frederic. Where he diligently applied himself to 
the study of all the branches of useful literature, espe- 
cially to that of natural philosophy. 

Sir Charles. Was it originally intended that he 
should be a clergyman ? 

Frederic. JVo, sir : his father meant him to be a physi- 
cian ; and, with this design, Barrow made considerable 
progress in the knowledge of anatomy, botany, and 
chemistry ; but, having been afterwards led to change 
his plans, he applied himself to the study of mathema- 
tics and divinity. 

Mr. Allen. He was a candidate for the Greek pro- 
fessorship in Cambridge, »but was disappointed. 

Frederic. And it was this disappointment, as it is 
thought, which induced him, for some time, to leave 
the university, and travel upon the continent; but he 
was so poor that he was obliged to sell his books to 
enable him to do this. He Avent to France, and pro- 
ceeded from thence into Italy; where his money again 
becoming deficient, he would have been obliged to 
return home, had not a young merchant of liondon 
generously supplied him with the means of proceeding. 



ISAAC BARROW. 117 

From Italy he embarked for Smyrna. He resided 
more than a year in Turkey, and returned home through 
Germany and Holland. 

Edmund. It was during his voyage to Smyrna that 
he exhibited that instance of bravery of vviiich I have 
spoken. The ship he sailed in was attacked by an 
Algerine pirate ; and Mr. Barrow having, at liis own 
request, been placed at one of the guns, worked it to 
the last, with all the steadiness and courage of a sailor. 
From the brave defence that was made, the Algerine 
was compelled to sheer off. Sometime afterwards he 
was asked by a friend, "T\hy he had not gone down 
into a place of security, and left the defence of the ship 
to those to whom it belonged T He replied, that '' ^No 
man was more concerned in its defence than himself: 
and that it would have been infinitely preferable to 
him to have lost his life, than to have fallen into the 
hands of those merciless infidels." 

Sir Charles, This certainly was ti'ue bravery, though 
in self defence. 

Mr. Allen. Barrow had formerly been disappomted 
respecting the Greek professorship. There was a 
vacancy in the same situation the year after his return 
froin the continent, on which he w as again a candidate, 
and was now successful. He was afterwards elected 
Professor of Geometry in Gresham College, London; 
Mathematical Professor in the University of Cambridge ; 
and, lastly, appointed Master of Trinity College; 
having, about two years before, taken the degree of 
doctor of divinity. 

Sir Charles. Can you inform me what was his per- 
sonal appearance ? 

Edmund. He was low of stature, thin, and of pale 
complexion; his hair was light brown, very fine, and 
curling; yet few men of his size exceeded him in 
strength. He was peculiarly fond of tobacco, which 
he used to call his pan pharmacon, or universal medi- 
cine. In his dress he was negligent, and slovenly to 
an excess. 



118 DIVINES. 

Frederic, This exposed him, in some mstances, lo 
great inconvenience. We are told that the minister of 
St. Lawrence Jewry asked him one Sunday to preach 
for him. When he entered the pulpit, his pale and 
meagre aspect, and slovenly and careless dress, had 
such an effect upon the congregation, that the whole 
church was in an uproar, and nearly all went out. 
Apparently heedless of the circumstance, he delivered 
his admirable sermon to the two or three that were 
left. When, afterwards, Dr. Barrow was asked what 
he thought of the congregation thus running away 
from him, " I thought," said he, " that either they did 
not like me or ray sermon, and I had no reason to be 
angry with them for that.'' 

Mr, Allen, His sermons were truly excellent, in 
many particulars both of style and sentiment; yet we 
cannot but admire more the prodigious fertility of his 
invention, and the strength and force of his concep- 
tions, than the correctness of his execution, or his talent 
iw composition. His style is unequal, incorrect, and 
redundant, though peculiarly distinguished for force 
and expression. 

Edmund, But, like most of the sermons of that day, 
excellent as they are, every one must consider them to 
have been greatly too long. 

Frederic. Dr. Pope related that Barrow was once 
requested by the Bishop of Rochester to preach for 
him in Westminster Abbey, and was particularly 
requested not to have a long sermon, as that auditory 
were accustomed to short ones. Before he went into 
the pulpit, he showed the bishop his sermon, the text 
of which was, ^^ He that uttereth a slander is a liar.'' 
He had divided it into two parts ; one of which was 
on the subject of slander, and the other on that of 
lies. The bishop suggested to him the propriety of 
preaching only the first part, which, with some reluc- 
tance, he assented to ; and that part alone occupied an 
hour and a half. 

Edimind, But the sermon of greatest length whicli 



GiLBEUT BLKNLI. 119 

Dr. Barrow was known to have preached, was one on 
the subject of charity, before tlie Lord Mayor and 
Aldermen of London. In t;ie delivery of this he was 
occupied three hours and a half. 

Frederic. And when he came down from the pulpit, 
being asked by a friend whether he was not tired, 
*' Yes, indeed,'' he replied, *' I began to be weary with 
standing." 

Mr. AHe7i. Dr. Barrow was perhaps the ablest 
scholar of his own time. Besides a great number 
of sermons, he published several highly important 
works on mathematics and natural philosophy. In 
nearly all the subjects which exercised his pen, he 
exhibited a clear perception, sound judgment, pro- 
found thought, and close and nervous reasoning. A 
late writer has observed, that the name of Barrow 
will ever '' be illustrious for strength of mind and 
compass of knowledge. He was unrivalled in mathe- 
matical learning, and especially in geometry, in which 
he has been excelled only by Sir Isaac Newton.^' 

This excellent and learned man died on the fourth 
of May, 1677, in the forty-seventh yeai* of his age, 
and was bmied in Westminster Abbey, w here a monu- 
ment was erected to his memory, by the contribution 
of his friends. 

When the account of Dr. Barrow was finished, Sir 
Charles Irwin looked at his watch, and, finding it yet 
early, proposed a continuance of the discussion, if 
the young gentlemen were prepared for it. Frederic 
stated, that he was ready with the life of Dr. Gilbert 
Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, in the reign of Wil- 
liam the Third. Edmund said that, though he was not 
quite prepared, he hoped he should not be found very 
defective. He stated his recollection of having reail 
that Dr. Burnet was the son of a Scotch lawyer, and 
bom at Edinburgh in the year 1643. 

Sir Charles. What have you learned respectbg his 
education ? 



1^0 BlViN£5. 

Edmund, That he received the first rudhiieuts <>i 
this under his father, by whose care he made so great 
a progress that, when only ten years of age, he per- 
fectly understood the Latin language : that he was 
then sent to the College of Aberdeen, where he ac- 
quired a knowledge of Greek, and went through the 
usual course of instruction with great applause; so 
that he was little more than fourteen years of age 
when admitted to the degree of master of arts, 

Frederic, His father continued to be his chief 
instructor even during the time he was in college ; 
and, by rousing him to his studies as early as four 
o'clock every morning, gave him an habit of early 
rising, in which he continued during nearly the whole 
remainder of his life. 

Mr, Allen, By this early rising he of course had 
much leisure for lighter studies ; and, in his hours of 
amusement, he perused many volumes of history. Thus, 
as he had also a strong constitution and an admirable 
memory, he by degrees acquired a great fund of know- 
ledge. 

Frederic, He had been educated for the church; 
and, when about twenty-three years of age, was pre- 
sented with the living of Saltoun, in the shire of 
Haddington, in Scotland. 

Mr, Allen, And how did he conduct himself in his 
clerical character? 

Frederic, In a manner most exemplary. During five 
years that he spent at Saltoun, he regularly preached 
twice every Sunday, and once on each of the week 
days. He catechised his parishioners three times a 
week, so as to examine every individual, old and young, 
in the principles of religion, thrice a year. He also 
went round the parish from house to house, giving 
instruction, reproof, or comfort, as occasion required. 
He visited the sick twice a day ; and administered tlie 
sacrament four times a year, personally instructing all 
those who gave notice of their intention to receive it. 



GILBERT JBURNET. 121 

The surplus of his income, after a very frugal expen- 
diture, he bestowed in charity. 

Mr. Allen. His liberality was extremely great. 
Among other instances of this, we are told that one 
of his parishioners, a tradesman, who had been ar- 
rested for debt, applied to him for relief. He in- 
quired how much money would be sufficient to pay the 
debt, and again set liim up in his trade. The man 
named the sum, and Mr. Burnet desired his servant to 
pay it him. '' Sir," said the latter, '' we have but just 
that sum in the house." — " Well," replied Mr. Burnet, 
*' pay the whole of it to this poor tradesman: you 
do not know what pleasure there is in making a man 
happy." 

Edmund, About four years after he had obtained 
the living of Saltoun, he was appointed Professor of 
Divinity at Glasgow; and was also offered the choice 
of four Scots bishoprics, but he refused them alL He 
now went to reside in London, was appointed preacher 
at the Rolls Chapel, and lecturer of St. Clement^s 
Danes, in the Strand; and became one of the most 
popular preachers in the metropolis. 

Frederic, I have read that his constant practice was 
to preach extempore ; and that he attained a peculiar 
facility in doing this, chiefly by appropriating many 
hours of every day to meditate on various subjects ; and 
by accustoming himself at such times, to speak his 
thoughts aloud, always studying to render his expres- 
sions correct. He was once appointed to preach a 
thanksgiving sermon, before the royal family at St. 
PauVs ; and, as this was the only discourse he had ever 
written before hand, so it was the only time he ever 
made a pause in preaching, and this lasted above a 
minute. 

Mr, Allen, It is a remarkable trait in the character 
of this excellent man, that though, at the time he was 
resident in London, he had no parochial duty, he 
did not refuse his attendance to any sick person who 
desired it. Among others, he was called upon lo 
G 



122 DIVINES. 

attend the Earl of Rochester, one of the most vicious 
and dissipated men of the day ; and for a whole whiter, 
in a conversation of at least one evening every week, Mr. 
Burnet Avent over all those topics with him upon which 
men of light faith, and loose morals, are accustomed to 
attack the Christian religion. The effect of these con- 
ferences, in convincing the earl's judgment, and leading 
him to a sincere repentance, was made the subject of a 
well-known and interesting narrative, by Mr. Burnet, 
entitled, '' An Account of the Life and Death of the 
Earl of Rochester :" this narrative. Dr. Johnson has 
declared, '' the critic ought to read for its elegance, 
the philosopher for its argument, and the saint for its 
piety." 

Frederic, Mr. Burnet w^as suspected of not being 
favourable to James the Second, on account of the 
religious principles of that monarch having been those 
of Popery. The consequence was, that the persons in 
power caused him to be dismissed from his clerical 
situations, and in some degree compelled him to quit 
the kingdom. 

Edmund, He now travelled through France, Italy, 
Switzerland, and Germany, and, at length, settled in 
Holland, where he was admitted into the secret coun- 
cils of the Prince and Princess of Orange, afterwards 
our King William and Queen Mary. This prince was 
too good a politician not to see that the talents, con- 
nexions, and reputation of Burnet, all conspired to 
make him a valuable auxiliary to his cause. The conse- 
quence to the latter was, that when William had estab- 
lished himself on the throne of England, he was, almost 
immediately afterwards, created Bishop of Salisbury. 

Frederic, True; but so little anxious was he for 
preferment that, when this bishopric became vacant, 
he solicited it in favour of one of his friends. Dr. 
Lloyd, then Bishop of St. Asaph. The king, how- 
ever, coldly answered him, that *' he had another 
person in view f and the next day he nominated to it 
Mr. Burnet himself. 



GILBERT BLRNET. 123 

Sir Charles. His conduct as a private cierg^'man 
had been so exemplary, that we are induced to look 
to him as a bishop who would conscientiously dis- 
charge all the duties of that elevated station. 

Mr, Allen. This he appears to have done. He regu- 
larly held annual visitations at all the principal towns 
in his diocess. At these visitations, he strictly investi- 
gated the conduct of the clergy; and took great pains 
to induce them to instruct all the young persons under 
their care in Christian principles. He was also a 
decided enemy to clergymen holding more than one 
living, except where the churches lay near each other, 
and the livings were of little value. And, in respect 
to clergymen residing upon their livings, he was so 
strict that he would not permit even his own chaplains 
to reside with him, after they had once obtained livings. 
He was also particularly careful in conferring orders, 
and in giving such preferment as he had to bestow to 
persons whom he believed to be deserving of it. As 
the pastor of his whole diocess, he considered it a part 
of his duty never to be absent from bis see, except 
during his attendance in parliament ; from which, as 
soon as the principal business of the nation was dis- 
patched, he immediately returned to the duties of his 
episcopal office. 

Edmund. His general character, and his admirable 
and exemplary conduct, raised him high in the esteem 
both of King William and his cjueen, though he is 
said to have occasionally offended the king by the 
frankness with which he spoke of existing evils in tfie 
government. 

Frederic. It is. a circumstance very remarkable in 
the conduct of Dr. Burnet, that he never condescended 
to make the ordinary use of court influence ; for, though 
he obtained many employments and gratuities for others, 
he is said never to have solicited a favour for himself or 
his own family ; but that, on the contrary, he several 
times declined offers of high preferment, which were 
made to him. 



124 1)1 VINES, 

Mr. Allen. What account, Frederic, have you to 
give of the death of this excellent prelate ? 

Frederic, Not long after he had attained his seventy- 
second year he was taken ill with a violent cold, which 
was soon attended with fatal symptoms. When the bishop 
perceived his end approaching, he employed nearly his 
whole remaining time in acts of devotion, and in giving 
advice to his family ; of whom he took leave in such 
manner as to show the utmost tenderness, accompanied 
by the greatest resolution and firmness of mind. He 
was so little alarmed by the terrors of death as to 
meet its approach with joy, and to express no other 
concern than for the grief which he saw in those 
around him. He died on the seventeenth of March, 
1715, in the seventy-second year of his age, and Avas 
buried in the parish church of St. James, Clerkenwell, 
London. 

Mr. Allen. The domestic habits of Bishop Burnet 
were very different from those of mankind in gene- 
ral. 

Frederic. Indeed, sir, they were. I have already 
said, that, when a boy, his father accustomed him to 
rise very early in the morning. This habit continued 
with him till within a short time of his death. The 
two first hours in a morning, and the last half hour 
at night, he occupied in private meditation. He always 
read the morning and evening prayers to his family, 
though his chaplains were present. He took the oppor- 
tunity of the tea-table to instruct his children in reli- 
gion, and in giving them his own comment upon some 
portion of Scripture. He seldom spent less than six, and 
often eight hours a day in study. At his table, which 
was accessible to all, there was plenty without luxury. 
He was a most affectionate husband; and expressed 
his love for his children, not in hoarding up wealth for 
them, so much as by giving them an excellent educa- 
tion. In his friendships he was warm, open-hearted, 
and constant; and, though his station and principles 
raised him many enemies, he always endeavoured, by 



GILBERT BURNET. 125 

the kindest ofRces, to repay their injilries; and, by 
returning good for evil, to overcome them. 

Sir Charles, The bishop, if T recollect, was remark- 
able for an absence of mind, which on some occasions 
were the cause of considerable embarrassment to him. 
Do any instances of this occur to you ? 

Edmund, I have read of one. Whilst he was in 
Paris, several ladies of quality, and, among others, the 
Countess of Soissons, mother of Prince Eugene, had 
been imprisoned on a suspicion of having administered 
poison to some person. Several years afterwards, whem 
the prince visited England, the bishop entreated the 
Duke of Marlborough to introduce him to his illus- 
trious colleague. The duke consented, but begged he 
would be upon his guard against saying any thing that 
might create offence. Mindful of this caution, the 
bishop resolved to sit silent during the whole enter- 
tainment. But the prince, on learning his name, 
among other questions of civility, asked him when 
he was last in Paris. Agitated by this unexpected 
attention, he replied, that ^* he could not recollect the 
year, but it was that in which the Countess of Sois- 
sons had been imprisoned." His eyes at this instant 
meeting those of the duke, he recollected his blunder, 
and, deprived of all his remaining discretion, doubled 
his error by begging pardon of the prince. He stared 
wildly around him, and, seeing the whole company in 
a state of embarrassment, rushed out of the room in 
the utmost confusion. 

Mr. Allen. The person who related this story has 
also said that the bishop was extravagantly fond both 
of tobacco and writing. 

Frederic, Yes ; and that, to enjoy them both at the 
same time, he bored a hole in the broad brim of his 
hat ; through this he put his pipe, and was thus enabled 
at once both to puflf and write. 

Edmund, His appearance in this act must have been 
very ludicrous. 

Mr, Allen. Bishop Burnet was the author of several 



12G DIVINES. 

literary productions, particularly a ^* History of the 
Reformation in England;" an ** Exposition of the 
Thirty-nine Articles of the Church of England;'' and 
" The History of his Own Times/' with an account 
of his Life. Of these the first is a production of 
labour and authority, to which the state of the times 
when it was written, added so much incidental value, 
that a vote of thanks to the author passed both houses 
of parliament. *^The History of his Own Times'^ is a 
work, which, with all its defects and redundances, both 
of style and matter, is valuable as a collection of authen- 
tic memoirs of persons, whose names are connected with 
some of the most important events in English history. 



EIGHTEENTH EVENING. 

Frederic, I have lately received much instruction 
from reading Dr. Samuel Clarke's " Evidences of 
Natural and Revealed Religion;'^ a work which is 
the more remarkable, as it appears to have been pub- 
lished before he was twenty-nine years of age. 

Mr, Allen, This, like all the other publications of 
Dr. Clarke, has certainly great intrinsic excellence, 
though, in some particulars, his doctrines and opinions 
have been considered objectionable. The great extent 
of his learning, his depth of knowledge, and his gene- 
ral talents as a writer, will, notwithstanding, cause his 
works to be always read and admired by persons who 
coincide in his opinions. — Who was Dr. Clarke ? 

Frederic, He was the son of Edward Clarke, Esq. 
alderman of Norwich, and born in that city on the 
eleventh of October, 1675. The first part of his edu- 
cation he received in the free-school of Norwich, and, 
when he was about sixteen years old, his father sent 
him to Caius College, Cambridge, where his talents 
soon excited attention. 

Edmund. So much so, that he was generally charac- 



SAMUEL CLARKE. 127 

terize<l among the students by the title of ** the lad of 
Caius ;" and for his great industry he became a model 
of excellence to the whole university. 

Frederic, Shortly after he was admitted into holy 
orders, he was appointed domestic chaplain to Dr. 
More, at that time Bishop of Norwich, who after- 
wards gave him the living of Drayton, near Norwich. 
Like Dr. Burnet, of whom we spoke last night, he 
generally preached without notes. It was in conse« 
quence of his appointment to preach a lecture founded 
in Bow Church, London, by the Honourable Robert 
Boyle, that he was induced to draw up his " Discourses 
on the Being and Attributes of God," and his *' Evi- 
dences of Natural and Revealed Religion," which 
obtained for him great celebrity. 

Mr, Allen, Dr. Clarke, like Dr. Buniet, affords 
an instance of peculiar industry. It was with him a 
maxim, *' not to lose a single moment of time." He 
is said always to have had a book with him, which 
he would read in his carriage, while walking in 
the fields, or at any otherwise unoccupied time. He 
would occasionally open it even in company, when he 
could do so without giving offence. 

Edmund, And yet, sir, with all this value for time, 
we are informed, that he would sometimes spend many 
successive hours in playing at cards. He must cer- 
tainly have entertained an opinion of this amusement 
very different from that which we have formerly re- 
marked of Mr. Locke. 

Mr, Allen, This certainly appears to have been an 
extraordinary propensity for a man of his studious 
habits ; and we can only account for it, by imagining 
that he considered it as a relaxation from study. 

FredeHc, To proceed with his history. We must 
remark that he Avas recommended by his friend. Dr. 
More, to the favour of Queen Anne, who appointed him 
one of her chaplains in ordinary, and soon afterwards 
gave him the rectory of St. James's, Westminster. 
Edmund, You have said, Frederic, that he was 



12a BlVINESr. 

accustomed generally to preach extempore, or with- 
out notes ; but, from the time of his obtaining this 
rectory, he discontinued that mode, and is said to 
have preached from sermons which he had previously 
written. 

Mr, Allen. And he became so popular as a preacher, 
that an ingenious and learned clergyman from the 
country went one Sunday to hear him, and afterwards 
declared that he would at any time have gone twenty 
miles for a similar gratification. 

Sir Charles. The death of Dr. Clarke appears to 
have been very st^dden. 

Frederic, It was somewhat so, sir. He had gone 
from his house to preach before the judges at Sergeant's 
Inn; but, being suddenly seized with a pain in his 
side, it was necessary to carry him home. He con- 
tinued in a languishing state till the Saturday morning 
following, the seventeenth of May, 1729, when, to the 
surprise and grief of all around him, the pain removed 
from his side to his head, and he expired in the even- 
ing of that day, in the fifty-fifth year of his age. 

Sir Charles, We will ask Mr. Allen to favour us 
with his opinion of the character of Dr. Clarke. 

Mr, Allen, I will give you the substance of what 
Bishop Hoadly has said of him; previously remarking, 
that some of his religious tenets, particularly those on 
the doctrine of the Trinity, are by no means accordant 
with the established principles of the Church of England. 
The bishop says, that he was a person of natural genius 
so excellent as to have placed him in the superior rank 
of men without the acquirements of learning; and of 
learning: enou2:h to have rendered a much less com- 
prehensive genius than his highly esteemed by the 
world; but in him they were both united. After 
stating his proficiency in every branch of science and 
learning, he adds, *' if in any one of these many 
branches he had excelled only as much as he did in 
all, this alone would have justly entitled him to the 
iiaine of a ' great man.' But there is something ex^ti'a- 



SAMUEL CLARKE. 129 

ordinary, tliat the same person should excel, not only 
in tliose parts of knowledge which require the strongest 
judgment, but in those which want the help of the 
strongest memory also ; and it is so seldom seen that one, 
who is an eminent master in theology, is at the same 
time skilfully fond of all critical and classical learning, 
or excellent in the physical and mathematical studies, 
or well framed for metaphysical and abstract reasoning; 
that it ought to be remarked in how particular a man- 
ner, and to how high a degree, divinity and mathe- 
matics, experimental philosophy and classical learning, 
metaphysics and critical skill, all of them various and 
different as they are among themselves, were united in 
Dr. Clarke." 

Sir Charles. In private and domestic life, he was 
mild, conciliating, and affectionate ; cheerful, and some- 
times playful even to simplicity. 

Frederic. Dr. Warton has observed, that he valued 
himself for his agility, and that he would occasionally 
amuse himself, in a private room of his house, even by 
leaping over the tables and chairs. 

Edmund. This was a strange amusement for a man 
of his learning and studious habits. 

Frederic. It was so; but it probably enabled him to 
pursue his important and serious studies with greater 
energy and vigour. To be capable of deriving amuse- 
ment from trivial circumstances, at least indicates 
a heart at ease, and may generally be regarded as a 
concomitant of virtue. 

Mr. Allen. The principal works of Dr. Clarke are, 
a valuable Paraphrase on the Gospels ; his Treatises 
on the Attributes of God, and Evidences of Natural 
Religion; and his Sermons. And he was involved in 
an impleasant theological controversy, by the publica- 
tion of a work on the *' Scripture Doctrine of the 
Trinity." When little more than twenty-one years of 
age, he translated from the French language, '^ Ro- 
hault's System of Physics, or Natural Philosophy." 
He likewise translated Sir Isaac Newton's Treatise on 
G 3 



130 DIVINES. 

Optics into Latin, for the use of continental students ; 
and published an edition of Homer, and a beautiful 
edition of Caesar's Commentaries, with annotations. 

At the close of the discussion relative to Dr. Clarke, 
Sir Charles Irwin observed, that the peculiar religious 
ienets of this divine had reminded him of the Dis- 
senters from the Established Church; and he hoped 
that his young friends did not mean to pass them over 
without notice. He said that, although he differed 
from them in several very important particulars, both 
of belief and of discipline, there had been, and there still 
were among them many learned and estimable men. 

Frederic said that he had intended to speak of two 
of them. Dr. Isaac Watts, and Dr. Doddridge; 
and that, if the time would allow of it, he would do so 
now. 

The assent of Sir Charles Irwin and Mr. Allen 
ha^dng been given, Frederic observed, that the father 
of Dr. Watts had been the master of a respectable 
boarding-school at Southampton, where the doctor 
himself was born, on the seventeenth of July, 1764. 
He further stated, that few children began to learn the 
dead languages at an earlier age than Dr. Watts. We 
are told that his father first taught him Latin when he 
was only four years old. He was afterwards instructed 
in Greek and Hebrew at the free school at Southamp- 
ton. When sixteen he was sent to an academy super- 
intended by the Rev. Thomas Rowe; and, three years 
afterwards, he joined the congregation which was under 
the care of Mr. Rowe. 

Sir Charles, What was his progress in study ? 

Frederic, Very great. His application was so in- 
tense that few young men have acquired, in the course 
of their school education, a more ample stock of know- 
ledge. 

Sir Charles, How did he chiefly employ his leisure 
hours ? 

Frederic. We are not informed, otherwise than that 



ISAAC WATTS. 131 

he occupied a considerable portion of his time in 
writing verses, both Latin and English. He has him- 
self said, that he was a maker of verses from the age 
of fifteen to that of fifty. 

Mr, Allen, His biographers state that, when he was 
twenty years old he left the academy, and spent two 
years in study and devotion at the house of his father, 
who treated him with great tenderness. Do you 
recollect his situation in life after this ? 

Fredenc, He was first appointed by Sir John Har- 
topp, of Stoke Newington, near London, a private tutor 
to his son; and, about the conclusion of his twenty- 
fourth year, was chosen assistant minister of a dissent- 
ing congregation in Mark Lane. He afterwards had 
the appointment of minister ; but had scarcely entered 
on the latter employment, than he was seized with an 
illness of such long duration, that he was compelled to 
relinquish it. 

Sh' Charles, This was a very afflicting circumstance. 

Frederic, It was so in itself; but it proved even- 
tually a beneficial one to him. 

Sir Charles, In what respect ? 

Frederic, His character was so amiable, and his 
conduct so unexceptionable, that he was received into 
the house of Sir Thomas Abney, of Newington, and 
continued to reside with that family till his death, a 
period of thirty-six years. Here, Avithout any care of 
his own, he had every thing that could sooth his 
mind, and aid his restoration to health — that could 
contribute to the enjoyment of his life, and favour the 
unwearied pursuit of his studies. 

Mr, Allen, It was in this retreat that he T^Tote the 
whole, or nearly the whole of his works. 

Frederic, We are told by Dr. Johnson, that he 
occasionally preached; and that, although his low sta- 
ture, which scarcely exceeded five feet in height, 
graced him with no advantages of appearance, yet the 
gravity and propriety of his utterance, always rendered 
his discoui'ses efficacious. 



ia2 DIVINES. 

Sir Charles. It is very instructive to t'ead the ac-- 
counts that have been given to us of the patience of 
Dr. Watts under great sufferings of hodj, and of the 
improvement and comfort which he derived from them. 
Of these seasons of affliction he says of himself, *' I 
am not afraid to let liie world know that, amidst the 
sinkings of life and nature, Christianity and the Gos- 
pel have been my support. Amidst all the violence of 
my distemper, and the tiresome months of it, I thank 
God, I never lost sight of reason, or religion, though 
sometimes I had much difficulty to preserve the machine 
of animal nature in such order, as regularly to exercise 
either the man or the Christian.'' Two or three years 
before his death, the active powers of his nature gra- 
dually failed, yet his trust in God, through Jesus Christ, 
remained unshaken to the last. He was heard to say, 
*' I bless God, that I can lie down with comfort at night,, 
not being solicitous whether I awake in this world or 
another." And again, ** I should be glad to read 
more : yet not in order to be further convinced in the 
Christian religion, or in the truth of its promises ; for 
I believe them enough to venture an eternity upon 
them. " When almost worn out bj^ his infirmities, he 
said, in conversation with a friend; '* I remember an 
aged minister used to observe, that, the most learned 
and knowing Christians, when they come to die, have 
6nly tlie same plain promises of the Gospel for their 
support, as the common and uninformed: and so I 
find it. It is the plain promises of the Gospel that 
are my support ; and, I bless God, they are plain 
promises, that do not require much labour and pains to 
be understood." At times, when he found his spirits 
tending to impatience, because be could only lead what 
he called a mere animal life, he would check himself 
thus : ^* The business of a Christian is to bear the will 
of God, as well as to do it. If I were in health, I 
ought to be doing it, and now it is my duty to bear it. 
The best thing in obedience is a regard to the will of 
God I and the way to that is, to have our inclinations^ 



PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 133 

and our aversions as much mortified as wc can." In 
tliis calm and tranquil state of mind, being now 
seventy-five years of age, did he wait for the close of 
his labours and his sufferings ; and he quietly expired 
on the twenty-fifth of November, 1748, in the same 
house where his life had been prolonged, and made 
comfortable, by a continuance of the most kind and 
amiable attention. 

Mr, Allen, Dr. Johnson has written respecting Dr. 
Watts, that few persons have left such purity of cha- 
racter, or such monuments of laborious piety, as he. 
He has provided instruction for all ages, from those 
who are lisping their first lessons, to the most enlight- 
ened readers ; he has left neither corporeal nor spiri- 
tual nature unexamined; has taught the art of reason-^ 
ing, and the science of the stars. His whole works, 
including poetry, sermons, logic, &c., have recently 
been collected and published together. 

When the life of Dr. Watts was finished, the party 
still found they had nearly an hour left before the usual 
time of retiring ; and, as they had no particular occupa- 
tion for it this evening, Mr. Allen proposed that they 
should proceed with the life of Dr. Doddridge now. 
He gave, as an additional reason, for this, that, in the 
morning, he must set out on a journey to Bath, to meet 
his brother ; and that, if the discussion were delayed, 
he should lose the pleasure of joining in it. The young 
gentlemen lamented the approach of the time when he 
was to be absent from them ; and immediately assented 
to his request. 

The discussion was commenced by Edmund, who 
observed that, Dr. Philip Doddridge had been 
an eminent dissenting minister, the son of a clergyman 
of the Church of England, the rector of Shepperton in 
Middlesex, who had been ejected from his living in the 
reign of Charles the Second ; and that he had been 
born in London, on the twenty-sixth of June, 1702. 

Frederic, It is said that, at his birth, he was so 



134 DIVINES. 

Utterly destitute of every sign of life, that lie was laid 
aside as dead ; but that, one of the attendants having 
observed some appearance of breathing, his existence 
was happily preserved. From his infancy, however, 
he possessed an inlirm constitution, and a consumptive 
habit. 

Mr. Allen. Do you recollect any particulars relative 
to his education? 

Edmund. Before he could read, his mother instructed 
him in the history of the Old and New Testament, by 
the aid of some Dutch tiles with pictures upon them, 
at the sides of the fire place. 

Frederic. When ten years of age he was sent to 
school at St. Alban's. Not long after this his father 
died, and, through the misconduct of those who had the 
management of his affairs, the whole of his property 
was lost. Through the kindness of Dr. Clerk, a dissent- 
ing minister at St. Alban's, he was, however, enabled 
to proceed with his studies. 

Mr. Allen. It probably may have escaped your 
reading that, during his residence there, Mr. Doddridge 
began to keep a regular journal of circumstances and 
events which occurred to him. 

JEdmund. I recollect to have read of it, sir; and 
this journal is said to have afforded ample testimony of 
the diligence with which he improved his time, and of 
his anxiety to be daily advancing in knowledge, in 
piety, and usefulness. During the whole course of his 
education he prosecuted his studies with unremitting 
diligence; and he became an excellent classical scholar : 
but his most earnest attention was paid to tlie subject 
of theology. His first ministerial office was as preacher 
to a small dissenting congregation at Kib worth, in 
Leicestershire; and we are informed that he was 
remarkably careful in his preparations for the pulpit : 
drawing up both his sermons and expositions with 
great method and exactness ; and expressing his senti- 
ments in language at once correct and elegant, yet 
plain and easy to hfd understood. 



PHILIP DODDRIDGE. 135 

Sir Charles. By which he must have rendered him- 
self infinitely more useful to such a congregation than 
he could have possibly done by highly refined and 
eloquent compositions. What were the subsequent 
events of his life ? 

Edmund, From Kibworth he removed to Market 
Harborough ; and thence, in 1729, to Northampton ; 
where he had the charge of a dissenting congregation, 
and undertook the conduct of a theological academy. 

Mr, Allen, He continued at Northampton more 
than twenty years, and, during his residence there, 
produced a great number of religious works, the cele- 
brity of which induced the University of Aberdeen to 
confer on him the honorary degree of doctor of 
divinity. 

Edmund, It is lamentable to add that, the incessant 
application which these various labours required, at 
last so far injured his health, that, in December 1750, 
he caught a cold, which brought on a fatal consumption. 
From this time he lingered several months, in a state 
evidently bordering upon the gi-ave ; and it was strongly 
recommended by his physicians that he should try 
tlie effects of a milder climate. He consequently pro- 
ceeded to Portugal, but died at Lisbon shortly after 
his arrival, on the twenty-sixth of October, 1751 ; and 
his remains were inteiTed in the burying ground of 
the British factory there. 

Mr, Allen, The piety of Dr. Doddridge was exem- 
plary during every part of his life ; and, at the approach 
of death, the composure, vigour, and cheerfulness of 
his mind were unabated. He uttered many devout 
sentiments; and the only pain he expressed, was the 
fear of that grief which his wife and children would 
experience in his loss. 

Frederic. Has the person of Dr. Doddridge been 
any where described ? 

Mr. Allen. Yes ; he was of slender form, somewhat 
above the middle size, and stooped considerably. His 
face was not handsome ; but, when he was engaged in 



136 DIVINES. 

conversation, or in preaching, there was a remarkable 
sprightliness and vivacity in his countenance and 
manner. 

With respect to his publications; by a strict economy 
of his time. Dr. Doddridge was enabled, amidst his 
labours as a tutor and a minister, to produce many 
estimable works, of which his Sermons, his ** Family 
Expositor,'^ and his account of the *' Life of Colonel 
Gardiner," have attained the greatest celebrity. In 
early life, particularly, he gave proofs of considerable 
poetic powers. Of these, the paraphrase on his family 
motto, *^ Dum vivimus vivamus,^' which Dr. Johnson 
has specified as one of the finest epigrams in the 
English language, may be recited as a specimen : 

^'Live while you live," tlie epicure would say, 
" And seize the pleasures of the present day" — 
" Live while you live," the sacred preacher cries, 
^* And give to God each moment as it flies." 
Lord, in my views let both united be, 
I live in pleasure, while I live to thee. 

This epigram closed the discussion respecting tbe 
life of Dr. Doddridge; and Frederic and Edmund 
expressed themselves sincerely sorry at the projected 
departure of Mr. Allen. Sir Charles Irwin remarked, 
that, as they would be able during Mr. Allen's absence 
to occupy their time usefully in the study of natural 
philosophy, which they had lately commenced, he 
should propose to discontinue the conversations on 
biography until that gentleman's return. Frederic hoped 
Mr. Allen would Avrite to them during his absence. 
He replied, that he probably might send them an 
account of the lives of a few individuals whose names 
had either not yet been inserted in the usual works on 
biography, or the accounts of whom, in such works, 
were very deficient. The young gentlemen expressed 
their strong sense of his kindness, and a hope that he 
would not long deprive them of the pleasure of a letter : 
shortly after which the party separated to their respec- 
tive apartments.. 



PHILIP SKELTON. VM 



NINETEENTH EVENING. 

The absence of Mr. Allen occasioned an intermission 
of the Biographical Conversations for some days. At 
length Frederic Montagu received from that gentleman 
a letter. This he requested permission of Sir Charles 
to read in the ensuing evening. The family had assem- 
bled at the usual horn*; he produced his letter, and, with 
the assent of Sir Charles and Lady Irwin, thus began : 

My dear Frederic, 

I have now been in Bath nearly four days 
without having hitherto had leisure to sit down, even 
for half an hour to write to you. The absence of my 
brother this morning affords me, however, an oppor- 
tunity to fulfil part of the engagement that I made with 
yourself and Edmund Irwin. This letter, which I ad- 
dress to you, as the elder of the two, shall contain some 
biographical recollections and anecdotes of the Rev. 
Philip Skelton, an Irish clergyman, whose cha- 
racter is by no means so well known in this country 
as it deserves ; and whose conduct, through every part 
of his life, is entitled to oiu* unqualified admiration. 

He was the son of an Irish farmer, and born in the 
parish of Derriaghty, near Lisburn, in the county of 
Antrim, on the tenth of February, 1706 — 7. His 
father, a man of good sense, and a strict observer of 
religion, spared no cost which his means would 
allow towards the education of his children. Philip 
was sent to school at Lisburn when about ten years 
old ; but being at first negligent, he was soon cured of 
his negligence by being taken home, sent into the fields, 
and treated as a menial servant ; after which he applied 
with great diligence to his book, and soon displayed an 
ardent desire for learning. On the death of his father, 
which happened whilst he was at school, his mother, 
who was left with ten children, had many difficulties 
to struggle with in bringing up and educating this 



138 DIVINES. 

numerous family. Philip therefore began to think it 
his duty, by intense application, as early as possible 
to relieve her, from at least the expense of one. Often 
has lie been known, when at a loss for candles, to 
make use of furze, which he gathered for the pur- 
pose from a neighbouring heath. This he threw 
piece by piece upon the fire, and, as well as he was 
able, studied by that glimmering light. He, and some 
of his most industrious school-fellows, are also said 
to have occasionally assembled in the fields, for the 
purpose of examining each other in their tasks and 
lessons. In these examinations, he who was unable 
to answer the question proposed, forfeited a halfpenny 
to the boy who examined him. This, Mr. Skelton 
used to say, made them prepare themselves with 
gi'eat assiduity ; for halfpence were, at that time, very- 
scarce with them. 

On leaving school, Mr. Skelton was entered as a 
sizer in the university of Dublin. Here he applied 
himself, with great diligence, to useful studies, and 
soon acquired the reputation of a good scholar. 

When of sufiicient age, he was admitted into holy 
orders. Previously to his ordination he fasted and 
prayed two days ; and his examination by the Bishop 
of Clogher, and his chaplain, was so strict, that it 
continued for a whole week, and was entirely in the 
-Latin language, without his being permitted to speak a 
word of English. 

He was appointed to the curacy of Monaghan, in 
the diocess of Clogher; and entered upon his office 
with such zeal for the salvation of those under his 
care, as a warm sense of duty only could inspire. He 
visited his people from house to house, without dis- 
tinction of sect; and freely conversed with them, 
mingling, on all occasions, entertainment with instruc- 
tion. It was his practice also to catechise the children 
every Sunday evening in the church. On a particular 
evening in the week, which he appointed, he invited 
to his lodgings, persons of every age, that he might 
instruct them in religion. In the pulpit he displayed a 



PHILIP SKELTON. 139 

strong, manly, and native eloquence, which arrested the 
jittention of all his hearers. He explained to them in 
plain but powerful language, the threats and the pro- 
mises of the Gospel. He declared to them the indis- 
pensable conditions of salvation; and his ardour and 
.sincerity made an irresistible impression on their hearts. 
It was said thai even the children of Monaghan, whom 
he instructed, knew more of religion at that time than 
the grown people of the neighbouring parishes. The 
manners of his flock Avere soon improved, and vice and 
ignorance retreated before the attacks of so powerful 
an assailant. 

The charities of Mr. Skelton were very extraordi- 
nary. The income he derived from his curacy was 
only forty pounds per annum; and of this he gave ten 
pounds to his mother; for some time, ten pounds to the 
tutor of his college, to discharge a few debts he had 
contracted there ; the rest he applied tow ards his own 
maintenance, and in charity. He frequently visited 
the gaols, and his visits were attended with the happiest 
effects to the prisoners. On one occasion, when a 
convict in the gaol of Monaghan, of whose innocence 
he was well assured, was condemned to be hanged 
within five days, he set off for Dublin ; and, on his 
arrival, was admitted to the privy council. Here he 
pleaded for the prisoner with such eloquence, as to obtain 
his pardon, and returned with it to Monaghan, in time 
to save the man's life. That he might be of greater use 
to the poor, he studied physic, and was peculiarly suc- 
cessful in his gratuitous practice. 

There was in his parish a man of notoriously wicked 
life. Mr. Skelton went to him, and, warning him of 
his evil ways, the man in a fury snatched a spit, and 
attempted to murder him. He was at first compelled 
to retreat, but had the courage to return; and, after 
much danger and difficulty, by long perseverance, 
brought the man to a sense of religion. 

He was still the curate of Monaghan M'hen he pre- 



140 DIVINES. 

pared for the press a valuable work in dialogue, entitled 
"Deism Revealed." This he published in London, in 
two volumes octavo, and the greater part of the sum 
that he obtained for it, (two hundred pounds) he laid 
out in the purchase of books. 

A few months after the publication of this work, the 
Bishop of Clogher, in whose diocess Mr. Skelton's 
curacy was situated, was asked by Dr. Sherlock, Bishop 
of London, if he knew the author. '' O yes," he replied, 
he has been a curate in my diocess near twenty years." 
— " More shame for your lordship," retorted Sherlock, 
** to let a man of his merit continue in your diocess so 
long a curate." 

The bishop was at length, in some degree, compelled 
to give him preferment; and he bestowed upon him 
the living of Pettigo, in a wild part of the county of 
Donegal, and worth about two hundred pounds a year. 
The parish was near fifteen miles long, and ten miles 
in breadth; and the inhabitants were uncultivated, 
disorderly, quarrelsome, fond of drinking, and sunk 
in profound ignorance. Skelton used to say, that he 
considered himself as a missionary sent to convert them 
to Christianity. Thus situated, he was wholly deprived 
of civilized society; and has often been known to 
declare, that he was obliged to ride seven or eight 
miles before he could meet with a person of common 
sense to converse with. He had here, however, a 
wide field for improvement, and he immediately began 
his work. He visited his parishioners from house to 
house ; instructed them late and early ; told them of 
Jesus Christ, who died for their sins, and whose name 
some of them had scarcely heard of before. In his 
journies through the parish he took down the names of 
the children, directing their parents to send them to 
church to be instructed in the catechism. During the 
summer, he also explained the catechism on Sundays 
to his whole congregation. He was thus, like Job, 
^' eyes to the blind and feet to the lame." By his 



PHILIP SKELTON. 141 

extraordinary diligence and care, he at length brought 
these uncultivated people to believe in a God who 
made tliem, and a Saviour who redeemed them. 

A farmer witli whom he lodged had a son that was 
blind. Mr. Skelton, perceiving this young man to 
possess an extraordinary understanding, and to be 
peculiarly we41 acquainted with the Scriptures, em- 
ployed him to go through the parish, during the winter, 
to instruct his people in religion ; and in the summer 
he examined them himself, to know what benefit they 
had derived from the instructions of his assistant. 

This indefatigable and exemplary divine showed, in 
a peculiar manner, the earnestness of his zeal for his 
fellow-creatures, by his exertions in their relief during 
the pressure of a remarkable dearth, which prevailed 
in the year 1757, and which was most severely felt in 
the rough and barren lands of his own parish. He 
travelled from cottage to cottage, over mountains, rocks, 
and heath, to discover the real state of the poor ; and 
was thus witness to many scenes of the most afflictive 
distress. He purchased oatmeal, and distributed it 
among his parishioners to appease the hunger of those 
who most needed it. At length his money was nearly all 
spent. He now began to be apprehensive lest, after 
having kept his people alive so long, he should at last 
see them die of hunger. The sacrifice he made on 
this occasion was such as can be duly appreciated only 
by a few. He resolved to sell his books, the com- 
panions of his solitude, and the sources of delight in 
the midst of an ignorant and uncultivated society. 
They were conveyed to a bookseller in Dublin, who, 
after having advertized them for sale without success, 
purchased them himself for eighty pounds. Soon after 
the advertisement had appeared in the newspapers, 
two ladies, conjecturing the cause of their being 
offered for sale, sent Mr. Skelton fifty pounds, request- 
ing him to keep his books, and relieve his poor with 
that money. With many expressions of gratitude for 
their donation, he told them that he had dedicated tlie 



142 



DIVINES. 



books to God, and must sell them. Accorduiglv both 
sums were applied to the relief of his parishioners. 
Ihis was an act of such genuine benevolence, that any 
reflections I might be inclined to make on it, would 
only lessen the impression which it must, my dear 
Frederic, make upon your mind. One circumstance 
must be added, that the bookseller had only sold part 
of the books, and that those which remained, Mr. 
Skelton, when he was able, repurchased, at the' price 
that had been paid to him for them, he insistino- on 
payment of interest for the sum they amounted to.^ 

After Mr. Skelton had been about nine years at 
Pettigo, he obtained the living of Devenish, in the 
comity of Fermanagh, near Enniskillen. This livino-, 
the value of which was about three hundred pounds 
per annum, was likewise given to him by the Bishop of 
Clogher. In his new charge he exerted the same zeal 
to mstructhis flock both in public and private, and the 
same benevolence towards the poor, which had ren- 
dered him so great a benefit to his former people. 
His charities, while he continued at Devenish, were if 
possible more extensive, in proportion to the value of 
the living, than they had been in Pettigo. 

The bishop of Clogher next promoted him to the 
living of Fintona, a market town in the couBty of 
Tyrone. This living was worth at least a hundred 
pounds a year more than that of Devenish. He was 
now in the fifty-ninth year of his age, and used to say. 
''God Almighty has been very kind to me: when I 
began to advance in years, and stood in need of a 
horse and servant, he gave me two livings, one after 
another, each worth a hundred a year more than the 
preceding, I have, therefore, been rewarded by him, 
even in this world, far above my deserts." 

At Fintona he proved the same diligent, kind, and 
faithful pastor as at each of his former parishes; but 
here two circumstances occurred which were very 
characteristic of him. Having discovered that most 
of his Protestant parishioners were Dissenters from the 



PHILIP SKELTON. I H} 

Established Church, he invited their minister to dine 
with him, and requested permission to preach at his 
meeting on tlie following Sunday. The consent was 
given : Mr. Skelton preached in the meeting-house ; and 
the people were so much pleased with him, that tlie 
greater number of them quitted their own teacher, and 
went to church. A little while after this Mr. Skelton 
asked the preacher how much he had lost by the deser- 
tion of his hearers. He said about forty pounds a 
year ; on which Mr. Skelton settled that sum annually 
on him, and paid it out of his own pocket. 

I have already informed you that this exemplary 
divine had studied medicine, for the purpose of assist- 
ing the poor, by giving them advice and medicines 
gi'atis. His doing thus at Fintona caused Dr. Gormly, 
the physician of the place, to complain that he had 
thereby lost a considerable part of his business; on 
which Mr. Skelton also settled forty pounds a year 
upon him. Thus, my dear Frederic, you observe, that 
he not only took upon himself the toil of doing good, 
but voluntarily paid for doing it. 

As his parishioners at Fintona were but little ac- 
quainted with religion, he found it necessary first to 
visit every house within the parish, and then to collect, 
to a particular spot, the people of each district of it, 
that he might instruct them the more conveniently. 
When he had visited the several families, throughout the 
parish, he afterwards called to his aid the blind man 
who had formerly assisted him at Pettigo. This man 
passed one w inter at Fintona, teaching the people the 
first principles of religion. During the summer Mr. 
Skelton catechised the children in the church, as usual, 
bestowing on them Bibles and other religious books, 
according to the mode in which they answered, and 
partly according to the distance whence they came; 
and he accompanied his examination by short extem- 
pore lectures on the catechism. 

After he had resided some years at Fintona, he 
fomid it necessary, on account of his health, to pass 



144 DIVINES. 

the chief part of every winter in Dublin. Here he 
was so much admired in the pulpit, that the church in 
which he preached was always crowded with hearers. 
His biographer, the Rev. Samuel Burdy, has, in par- 
ticular, described his preaching a sermon at Dublin, ou 
a day appointed for a general fast, in the year 1776. 
He was at that time about seventy years of age : his 
wig was brown, his gown old and rusty, his face fur- 
rowed with wrinkles, and his person tall, though some- 
what bent by years. In short, he bore the resem- 
blance of one in mourning, commissioned to remind 
the world of the judgments o# God brought on them 
for their sins. Old as he was he displayed the greatest 
energy. He spoke with abhorrence of the infidelity 
and the corruptions of the age ; and in every particular 
exhibited the highest powers of eloquence. 

At length, after fifty years of indefatigable labour 
in the ministry, his increasing infirmities rendered him 
incapable of any longer discharging his public duties ; 
and in 1780 he took his final leave of Fintona, and 
removed to Dublin to end his days. On Good Fri- 
day, 1787, he was attacked by a severe fit of illness, 
and he closed his valuable life on the fourth of May 
following, in the eightieth year of his age. His re- 
mains were interred near the west door of St. Peter's 
church-yard, Dublin, according to his own particular 
request. 

Such, my dear Frederic, was the life of assuredly 
one of the most able and exemplary divines that ever 
existed. The property which he left at his death, did 
not amount to seven hundred pounds ; so liberally had 
he applied the profits arising from his livings to the be- 
nefit of those committed to his care. He was the author 
of several useful publications, particularly " Deism 
Revealed," which I have already mentioned, several 
volumes of sermons, and some detached tracts. 

It will be needless for me, after so detailed an 
account of the life of Mr. Skelton, to speak of his 
character. His actions and conduct will speak for 



\MLL1AM PA LEY. 145 

thcnivSelves, and will afford ample subject for con- 
templation; and I have no doubt but your own good 
sense will enable you to derive from them that instruc- 
tion, which they are well calculated to afford. 

I am, my dear Frederic, yours most affectionately, 

Edward Allen. 

Edmund, How admirable a character has Mr. Allen 
here delineated. I never heard of Mr. Skelton before; 
but this narrative affords sufficient proof that the life of a 
person little known to the world, may be found more 
instructive than the lives of many who have attained 
great celebrity. 

Frederic 1 will immediately write to Mr. Allen, to 
thank him for his excellent account. He will next 
write to you, Edmund. 

Edmund, Yes ; and I am very anxious to see his 
letter. I wonder who will be the subject of it. 

Sir Charles, I will tell you. Before Mr. Allen went, 
he* informed me that he should write to you an ac- 
count of Dr. Paley ; and, if nothing occurs to prevent 
it, I have no doubt you will receive the letter in two 
or three days. 



TWENTIETH EVENING. 

The letter that Sir Charles had mentioned arrived 
earlier than had been expected. Edmund received it 
the following day ; and lie read it to the party on .the 
same evening. It was as follows : — 

My dear Edmund, 

I yesterday wrote to our friend Frederic an 
account of Mr. Skelton, a most exemplary Irish cler- 
gyman. This evening, having leisure to write to 
you, I will give you as good an account as my recol- 
lection will enable me of the life of the late William 

H 



146 DIVINES. 

Paley, D. D. With many of his works, particularly 
his ^^ Evidences of Christianity," you are well ac- 
quainted. 

He was the son of the Rev. William Paley, one of 
the minor canons of the cathedral of Peterborough, and 
afterwards head-master of a school at Giggles wick, in 
Yorkshire. He was born at Peterborough, in the 
year 1743. The whole of his early education he 
derived from his father; and by the exercise of great 
abilities, united to a more studious disposition than 
usually belongs to boys of his age, he soon surpassed 
all his companions in learning. But it was not upon 
classical literature alone that his mind was bent. He 
was ardent in the pursuit of every kind of knowledge ; 
was curious in making inquiries about mechanism, 
whenever he had opportunity of conversing with Avork- 
men, or with other persons capable of affording him 
information. 

In his sixteenth year he was admitted a sizer in 
Christ's College, Cambridge ; commencing his residence 
in the university at a period, as he frequently after- 
wards mentioned, too early to encounter the dangers 
of a college life. He gave the following account of 
himself in Cambridge. " I spent," he said, '' the first 
two years of my undergraduateship happily, but unpro- 
fitably. I was constantly in the society of young men, 
who were not immoral, but idle and rather expensive. At 
the commencement of my third year, however, after 
having one evening left the usual party at rather a late 
hour, I was awakened at five in the morning by one of 
my companions, who stood by my bed-side, and said, 
^ Paley, I have been thinking what a fool you are. I 
could, probably, do nothing were I to try, and I can 
afford the life I lead. You could do every thing, and 
cannot afford it. I have had no sleep during the whole 
night, on account of these reflections, and am now 
come solemnly to inform 3^ou, that, if you persist in 
your indolence, I must renounce your society.'" Dr. 
Paley says, that he was so much aflFected by the pecu- 



AVILLIAM PALEY. 147 

liarity of this visit, and the conduct of the visitor, that 
he continued in bed during great part of the ensuing 
day, and formed his plan. He ordered a fire to be 
prepared every evening, that, in the morning, it might 
be hghted by himself. He now arose regularly at five 
o'clock, and studied during the whole of the day, 
except at such hours as were required for the chapel 
and hall, allotting to each portion of time its peculiar 
branch of study ; and, just before the closing of the 
college gates, at nine o'clock, he went to a neighbour- 
ing coffee-house, where he constantly regaled himself 
upon a mutton chop, and a glass of milk-punch. By 
this attentive arrangement of his studies, he was 
enabled, when he took his degree, to attain the highest 
honour that the university can bestow, and was what 
is denominated senior wrangler. 

Thus, my dear Edmund, was Mr. Paley happily 
roused to a full exertion of his faculties, before his 
habits were completely formed ; and to this very extra- 
ordinary adventure may perhaps be attributed not only 
the success of his immediately succeeding labours, but 
the subsequent invaluable productions of his pen. 

It is difficult to say in what Uterary acquirements, 
after he became a gi-aduate, he most excelled. His 
knowledge was general. Nothing escaped his notice : 
he was conversant in every branch of science, and in 
every kind of information. 

Mr. Paley was elected a fellow of Christ's College ; 
and, residing in the university, he, for several years, 
discharged the duties of college tutor, with great zeal 
and assiduity. His whole system of tuition was emi- 
nently calculated to render insti-uction easy, pleasant, 
and of permanent effect. While thus employed in im- 
proving others, he was laying the foundation of his 
own future fame ; for his lectures on moral philosophy, 
and on the Greek Testament, contained the outlines of 
those popular and highly estimable works, which he 
afterwards published, the " Principles of Moral Philo- 
sophy,'' and " View of the Evidences of Christianity." 
H 2 



148 DIVINES. 

This situation he continued to fill about ten ye'di%, 
when he quitted the university and married. 

The first preferment he obtained was the rectory of 
Musgrove, in Westmoreland, worth only about eighty 
pounds per annum ; and, in die following year, he was 
inducted into the vicarage of Dalston, in Cumberland. 
Here, in addition to the customary service of his church, 
Mr. Paley gave a course of lectures on the New Tes- 
tament, on the Sunday afternoons ; and there is no part 
of his character more justly entitled to respect than 
the active and zealous discharge of his professional 
duties. He was afterwards successively made a pre- 
bend of Carlisle, archdeacon of the diocess, and chan- 
cellor ; a prebend of St. Paul's, and subdean of Lin- 
coln. In January, 1795, he proceeded to Cambridge 
to take his degree of doctor of divinity; and, before 
he left that place, was surprised by a letter from the 
present Bishop of Durham, offering him the rectory of 
Bishop-wearmouth, estimated at about twelve hundred 
pounds a year. When he waited on his lordship to 
express his gratitude, his acknowledgments were inter- 
rupted: — '' Not a word," said the bishop; **you can- 
not have greater pleasure in accepting the living, than 
I have in offering it to you." Henceforward Dr. Faley 
divided his residence principally betwixt Lincoln and 
Bishop-wearmouth, passing his summer at the latter, 
and his winter at the former of these places. 

About the year 1804 his health began to decline; 
and, in the following year, he gradually sunk under 
the accumulated influence of debility and disease. 
His mental faculties, however, remained i nimpaired 
to the last ; and perhaps no man ever preserved greater 
self-possession, and greater composure, than he did 
during the whole concluding scene of his life. His 
mind was clouded by no displeasing recollections, no 
vain anxieties, no fond regrets. He had enjoyed the 
blessings of the world with satisfaction; and he relied, 
for future happiness, on the promises of that Divine 
E'^' -^^ation. the truth of which he had so strenuously 



WILLIAM PALEY. 349 

laboured to evince. He consequently met the approach 
of death with firmness, and comforted his afflicted 
family Avith the consolations of religion; and late on 
the evening of Saturday, the twenty-fifth of May, 
1805, he tranquilly resigned his soul into the hands 
of his Maker. 

With respect to the private life of Dr. Paley, it has 
been remarked, that perhaps no studious man ever 
entered more into the pleasures of society, or pre- 
sented a more rare assemblage of amiable and attrac- 
tive qualities in social life, than he. His naivete, his 
good humour, his fmid of knowledge, and his gi'eat 
powers of conversation, rendered him the delight of 
all who associated with him. He was at all times 
easy of access, and ready to enjoy the company of 
the rational and intelligent, as a relief from his pro- 
fessional engagements, and his private studies. He 
had also the happy art of deriving knowledge from 
others, by addressing every man on those subjects with 
which, from his profession, or his situation in life, he 
was likely to be best acquainted. He Mas one of those 
men, who, to use his own phrase, '* are never idle,'' 
and from even the most trifling company he could 
occasionally draw information. 

It now only remains, my dear Edmund, that I 
should inform you respecting the different publications 
of Dr. Paley. Of these the most celebrated are his 
'* Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy ,^^ and 
his '* View of the Evidences of Christianity." He 
also published a work entitled, *' Horae Paulinae; or, 
the Truth of the Scripture History of St. Paul 
evinced, by a Comparison of the Epistles which bear 
his Name with the Acts of the Apostles, and with 
one another;'' — " Natural Theology; or. Evidences of 
the Existence and Attributes of the Deity, collected 
from the Appearances of Nature;" and a volume of 
*' Sermons," which was published after his death. It 
would occupy too great a portion of this letter, were 
I to enter into any dissertation respecting the conteuti 



150 DIVINES. 

and character of works which have obtained so 
much celebrity as these. I shall only say, in the 
language of his biographer, what must be universally 
acknowledged, ** that no author ever wrote more 
pleasingly on the subjects of which he has treated than 
Dr. Paley : that the force and terseness of his expres- 
sions, are not less admirable than the strength of his con- 
ceptions; and that there is, both in his language and 
his notions, a peculiarity of manner, stamped by the 
vigour of his mind, which will perpetuate the repu- 
tation of his wprks." 

I am, my dear Edmund, 

Your sincere friend, 

Edward Aljlen. 



GENERAL WRITERS. 



TWENTY-FIRST EVENING. 

The conversations had been interrupted nearly a fort- 
night, by the absence of Mr. Allen; and his return 
was hailed with delight by all, but by none more 
sincerely than his pupU, Frederic Montagu. 

On the first meeting afterwards, the conversation 
accidentally commenced by a remark of Lady Irwin, 
concerning the Augustan age of literature. She asked, 
whether the commencement of the eighteenth century 
had not usually been esteemed the Augustan age of 
Enghsh literature; as that period had been distin- 
guished by numerous writings, eminent for their wit, 
their elegance, and taste. Mr. Allen thought such a 
notion injurious to the cause of literature, as it had a 
tendency to check the hope of future improvement. 
To this. Sir Charles remarked, that, if we were fairly 
to estimate the writings to wliich Lady Irwin alluded, 
we must at least allow that many of them had extraor- 
dinary merit ; and that the names of the literary men, 
who then flourished, would continue to be known so 
long as any love of elegant knowledge existed in the 
world. He mentioned those of Addison, Steele, 
Swift, Locke, Newton, Clarke, Atterbury, Pope, and 
some others; and asked, if the writers of any age, 
either before or since, had produced works of greater 
intrinsic merit than those which they had published ? 
Mr. Allen acknowledged their eminence, but was still 
not inclined to bestow the palm of merit solely upon 
them. As for Newton, he observed, that an exception 
must be made for him, as he would have conferred 
celebrity on any period. He was willing to allow thait 
the age of which Lady Irwin had spoken might, in 



lo2 GENERAL WRITERS. 

some degree, be considered the commencement of a 
literary age, in which Lyttleton, Goldsmith, Hmne, 
Johnson, Robertson, Blair, and numerous others, suc- 
cessively followed. 

The contest might have continued longer had it not 
been terminated by Lady Irwin, who, fearing she had 
already too long occupied the attention of the party, 
by this irregular discussion, proposed that Edmund 
should commence widi the life of Addison, on which, 
she was aware, he had been preparing himself. 

Edmund began: he said, that Joseph Addison 
w as the son of the Rev. Launcelot Addison, Dean of 
Litchfield; and that he had been born in 1672, at 
the village of Milston, near Ambresbury, in Wilt- 
shire : that the early part of his education he received 
under his father, from whom also he imbibed those 
principles of piety, which characterised him through 
life ; and that after his father had been created Dean of 
Litchfield, he removed to that city, and young Addi- 
son was, for some time, placed at school in Litchfield. 
Nothing, however (continued Edmund), has been stated 
by his biographers respecting his early habits or ac- 
quirements. 

Frederic, O yes ; Dr. Johnson has related that one 
of his masters was harried out of the school at the 
approach of the holidays, and principally by the mis- 
chievous contrivance of Addison. 

Mr, Allen, Surely, Frederic, that is no very impor- 
tant fact. Any other sprightly youth might have been 
led into the same mischief. 

Edmund, From Litchfield he was sent to the Char- 
ter-house ; where he first contracted that intimacy with 
Sir Richard Steele, which, by their joint labours in the 
Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian, has been so effectually 
commemorated. 

Frederic, As early as the age of fifteen he was 
admitted a member of Queen's College, Oxford. 

Edmund, And he there applied with such diligence 
to classical learning, that he speedily acquired an ele- 



JOSEPH ADDISON* 153 

gant stvie of Latin composition. Some verses that 
he wrote on the inauguration of William and Mary, 
obtained for liim so much celebrity, that he was elected 
into Magdalen College, on the rounders benefaction. 

Lady Irwin, What particular profession was it in- 
tended Mr. Addison should follow? 

Edmund, His father certainly meant him for the 
church ; but his own natural diffidence, which he could 
never entirely overcome, and some scruples tliat he 
entertained concerning the clerical office, induced him 
to decline it. 

Lady Irwin, What tlien were his views relative to 
the future ? 

Edmund, I do not know; but it appears that, on 
leaving college, having had an inclination to travel, he 
obtained from the crown, for that purpose, through the 
patronage of Lord Somers, an annual pension of three 
hundred pounds. In 1699, he made a tour through 
Italy, surveying all the interesting parts of that country, 
with the rapture of a poet, and the judgment of a 
critic; comparing, as he proceeded, the appearance of 
the mountains, woods, and rivers, with the descriptions 
which had been given of them by the Roman poets 
and historians. 

iMdy Invin, It was a fortunate circumstance that 
he was thus supplied with the means of paying his 
expenses. 

Edmund, So it was for a while ; but Mr. Addison 
experienced the same fate as many others who have 
been dependant upon courts. His pension was not 
regularly paid. 

Frederic, And he was obliged to return to England ; 
having, in the mean time, been compelled by indi- 
gence, to become the travelling tutor of a young person 
of fortune. He subsequently published an account of 
his travels. The chief objects of this work are said 
to have been to recommend the study of the classics, 
and to promote the cause of liberty. 

After the victory of Blenheim, Mr. Addison was 
H 3 



154 GENERAL WRITERS. 

requested to write a poem commemorative of that 
glorious event; and this poem, which was addressed 
to the Duke of Marlborough, and was entitled, ** The 
Campaign," was the means of his obtaining an office 
under the government. In the following year he was 
promoted to be one of the Under Secretaries of State; 
and he subsequently obtained the situations of Secre- 
tary to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and Keeper 
of the Records of that kingdom. 

Some circumstances, relative to his fees of office, have 
been mentioned, but I do not recollect what they were. 

Edmund, I will tell you : Addison never, in civility, 
would remit the payment of fees that were due to him 
from his friends. He used to say, '^ I may have a 
hundred friends, and if my fee be two guineas, I shall 
lose two hundred guineas by relinquishing my right, 
and no friend will gain more than two guineas. There 
is, therefore, no proportion betwixt the good imparted, 
and the evil suffered." 

Frederic, This was not a very friendly mode of 
reasoning. 

Edmund. He, however, acted upon it; and, in his 
official capacity, never indulged his friends by any 
gratuitous services. 

Sir Charles. And yet Mr. Addison was not a man 
of sordid character. Besides, it should not be for- 
gotten, that he made it an invariable rule never to 
take, on any pretence, more than the established fees. 
It is related, among other instances, that when he 
was secretary in Ireland, he had materially pro- 
moted the interest of a Major Dunbar, who offered 
him, in return, a bank note for three hundred pounds, 
and a diamond ring of great value. These he refused 
to accept, and wrote thus to the major :— '* Believe 
me, sir, when I assure you, I never did, nor ever will, 
on any pretence whatsoever, take more than the stated 
and customary fees of my office. I might keep the 
contrary practice concealed from the world, were I 
capable of it; but 1 could not from myself; and I hope 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 1^5 

I shall always fear the reproaches of my own heart 
more than those of all mankind." 

Lady Irwin, This was an instance of liberality wor- 
thy of the mind of Addison. 

Sir Charles, It was about the period of which we 
are speaking, that the well-known periodical publication, 
called, ** The Tatler," made its appearance. This work 
was conducted by Sir Richard Steele; atnd, on its 
termination. Sir Richard, in conjunction with Mr. 
Addison, projected *' The Spectator," the first number 
of which appeared in the beginning of March, 1711. 

Edmund, For this publication, I believe, Mr. Addi- 
son furnished about two hundred and seventy of the 
best papers. 

Lady Irwin, Is not each of these papers distin- 
guished by some one of the letters in the name of the 
muse Clio? 

Mr, Allen, It is, madam; but I am inclined to sup- 
pose that this is an accidental coincidence, and that 
Mr. Addison did not intend such a compliment to his 
papers, as to subscribe them with the name of one of 
the muses. There is reason to suppose that his signa- 
tures merely referred to the places where he happened 
to have written the respective papers ; that C was 
placed for Chelsea, L for London, I for Islington, 
and O for his Office. 

Lady Irwin, Your conjecture is a very ingenious 
one, but, I think, it does not entirely coincide with 
the accounts that have been given by Addison's early 
biographers. 

' Edmund, To the " Guardian," a work which fol- 
lowed the Spectator, Mr. Addison also contributed a 
great number of papers that have been much admired. 

Frederic. But, previously to the publication of the 
earliest of these works, he had written an opera called 
'' Rosamond." 

Edmund, Which was acted, and wholly failed. Yet, 
a little wliile afterwards, he ventured to offer for the 
stage his tragedy of ** Cato." 



150 GENERAL WRITERS. 

Lady Irwin, Poor man ! Diffident as he was, I do 
not envy his feelings on the first night of its perform- 
ance. 

Edmund. His agitation was such, that if it had been 
condemned, his intimate friends believed, his health 
would have been very seriously affected. 

Frederic, Every means, however, were adopted to 
render the hazard of this as little as possible. Steele 
relates, that he undertook to place numerous friends in 
different parts of the house, to applaud it. The dan- 
ger was soon over; and the success of this tragedy 
was obtained in a way that had been little thought of. 
The whole nation was at that time infuriated by faction. 
The consequence was, that the Whigs, as a satire on 
the Tories, loudly applauded every line in which 
liberty was mentioned ; and the Tories echoed every 
clap, to show the Whigs that the satire was not felt. 

Sir Charles, Thus, betwixt the Whigs and the 
Tories, the play proved so unexpectedly and so com- 
pletely successful, that it was acted for thirty-five nights 
without intermission. 

Edmund. The next important event in the life of 
Addison, was his marriage with the Countess Dowager 
of Warwick, to whose son he had been tutor. The 
courtship had been a long and tedious one; and it is 
related that, when her ladyship at last granted him her 
hand, she took care, in very intelligible terms, to let 
him understand how much she had condescended, in 
bestowing it upon one in a rank of life so much infe- 
rior to her own. 

Lady Irwin. Here I again pity him ; for it is well 
known that this marriage by no means tended ia 
increase his happiness. 

Sir Charles. The countess was of so overbearing a 
disposition, that it was pleasantly said by one of 
Addison's friends : *' Holland House, (of which he 
thereby became possessed) though a large mansion, 
cannot contain the Countess of Warwick, Mr. Addi-- 
son, and one guest, called peace, '^ 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 157 

Mr. Allen. She seems to have formed an opinion, 
not I fear a very uncommon, though assuredly a very 
erroneous one, that no culture of intellect, nor any 
exaltation of genius, can atone for the want of coronets 
and ancestry. The repulsive behaviour of the haughty 
countess often drove Mr. Addison from her society 
to that of his literary friends, and made him very 
imwilling to return to her from them. 

Sh^ Charles, Dr. Johnson justly remarked, that 
Addison has not left behind him any encouragement 
to ambitious love. 

Frederic. One of the consecjuences of his marriage, 
however, appears to have been his appointment, in the 
ensuing year, to the office of Secretary of State, the 
highest promotion that Mr. Addison ever attained. 

Lady Invin. I should not have imagined that he, 
a man devoted to literary pursuits, would have been 
calculated for the duties of such an office as this. 

Sir Charles. He certainly was very unfit for them. 
It has been asserted, that he could not even issue an 
order without losing his time in quest of elegant ex- 
pressions in which to word it. The consequence was, 
thut he shortly afterwards retired from office, with a 
pension of one thousand five hundred pounds a year, 
and gave up nearly the whole of his time to literature. 

Edmund. In his leisure hours he had applied him- 
self to the composition of a work on the *^ Evidences 
of the Christian Religion." 

Mr. Allen. This was a w^ell-intended production, and 
may be perused with advantage by persons who ha\ e 
not time to read larger treatises; but it is much infe- 
rior to the publications, on the same subject, by several 
later writers; particularly those of Paiey, Beattie, and 
Watson. 

The religious principles of Mr. Addison, are con- 
spicuous in all his writings. These principles influenced 
him throughout his whole life, and particularly glad- 
dened his latter days with serenity. Of this happy 
effect, his biographers have recorded one instance which 



158 GENERAL V/RITERS. 

is peculiarly affecting. You, Frederic, I know can 
relate it. 

Frederic. I will do so, sir, as nearly as I can, in 
the words of Dr. Young, the poet, by whom it was 
recorded. After a long and manly, but vain struggle 
with disease, Mr. Addison dismissed his physicians, as 
no longer of service to him; and with them all hopes 
of life. But, with these hopes, he had not dismissed 
his concern for the living. He sent for the young 
Earl of Warwick, who immediately obeyed the sum- 
mons. After a short pause, his lordship said to him, 
" Dear sir, you sent for me : I believe, and I hope that 
you have some commands : 1 shall hold them most 
sacred." Firmly grasping the hand of the youth, he 
only said, ** See in what peace a Christian can dieT 
He spoke with difficulty, and soon afterwards breathed 
his last. 

Lady Irwin. I have always admired this as one of 
the finest instances of Christian resignation that has 
been recorded, and as a most satisfactory proof of the 
value of religion, in administering comfort at the hour 
of death. 

Frederic. Mr. Addison died on the seventeenth of 
June, 1719, in the forty-eighth year of his age. 

Lady Irwin. What family did he leave ? 

Mr. Allen. One daughter, by the Countess of War- 
wick ; of whom we are told that, she was brought up 
with so little veneration for the memory of her father, 
that, for a while, she entertained a marked dislike to 
his \\Titings, and an unconquerable aversion to the 
perusal of them. She, however, was afterwards con- 
vinced of their excellence, and has been known to 
express very sincere regard for his memory. 

Lady Irwin. Surely nothing could more plainly 
evince the evil disppsition of the countess, than the 
educating of her own child in a contempt for the 
memory of her father. 

Edmund. In the character of Mr. Addison, it was 
a somewhat singular circumstance, that, although he 



SIR RICHARD STEELE. 15J> 

must have been in the habit, during his whole hfe, of 
associating with the higher ranks of society, and was 
easy, fluent, and familiar in the company of his friends, 
yet, before strangers, he was reserved and silent; and 
so timorous, that Lord Chesterfield has declared, he 
was the most awkward man he ever saw. 

Frederic. And yet. Lord Chesterfield, in one of his 
letters, has written that, he *' used to think, he was in 
company as much above himself, when with Mr. Addi- 
son, or Mr. Pope, as if he had been with all the 
princes in Europe." 

Sir Charles, That may have been the case. His 
lordship may have revered him for his talents, and, at 
the same time, have been fully sensible of his singula- 
rity of manners. To us, his works would alone have 
rendered him highly estimable. 

Mr^ Allen, These, chiefly, were his tragedy of Cato ; 
his papers in the Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian ; and 
his ** Evidences of the Christian Religion," On the 
breaking out of the Rebellion, in 1715, he published 
the " Freeholder," a kind of political Spectator. He 
was the author also of several pieces, both of Latin 
and English poetry. 



TWENTY-SECOND EVENING. 

Mr, Allen, I am particularly desirous of, this 
evening, proposing for discussion the life of Sir 
Richard Steele, because he was a man of considerable 
celebrity, a contempory and friend of Addison, and of 
a character so extremely different, that the contrast 
betwixt the two appears to me capable of yielding much 
instruction. Frederic, if you please, shall begin. 

Fredei'ic, It will give me great pleasure to do so. 
Sir Richard Steele was an Irishman. He was 
born in Dublin, as some writers say, in 1671 ; and, 
according to others, about the year 1676. His father 



160 GENERAL WRITERS. 

was a barrister; and, through the interest of the Duke 
of Ormond, was enabled to have his son placed on the 
foundation of the Charter -house school in London. 
Steele was sent thitaer when very young ; and, after 
his fadier's death, was removed to Merton College, 
Oxford. During his residence in the university, he is 
said to have been extremely careless and dissipated, 
though not altogether either immoral or irreligious. 
He was gay, gallant, and generous; di:tingxiished by 
the brilliancy of his wdt, the courtesy of his man- 
ners 

Eamund, And his imprudence. The entire depen- 
dance of Steele, at this period, was upon an uncle, 
who, could not endure a hero for his heir; and he, in 
the glow of military ardour, left the university without 
taking a degree, and enhsted as a private soldier in 
the horse-guards. 

Frederic. He was afterwards, however, promoted 
to an ensigncy. 

Mr, Allen, The moral character of this singular man 
is very instructive. He was one of those who are con- 
stantly the dupes of their own imagination. He always 
preferred his caprices to his interests. Though a man 
of admirable abilities, he was perpetually acting like a 
fool; and, with a warm attachment to virtue, was the 
most frail of human beings. 

Edmund, In his military career, he was exposed to 
much irregularity ; and yet, in the midst of his dissi- 
pation, he wrote, for his private use, a little book called 
"'The Christian Hero.'^ This was done with a design, 
principally, to fix upon his own mind, a strong impres- 
sion of virtue and religion, in opposition to a stronger 
propensity towards unwarrantable pleasures. But this 
secret admonition proved too weak ; and he resolved 
to print the book with his name, from this express and 
honourable motive, that it might serve as a *' standing 
testimony against himself, and make him ashamed of 
understanding, and seeming to feel what M'as virtuous, 
and yet living so contrary a life." 



SIR RICHARD STEELE. 161 

Lady Invin, This was an excellent project; and I 
hope was attended with good effect. 

M7\ Allen, He has himself told us, it had no other 
eft'ect than that, from having been thought a good com- 
panion, he was soon reckoned a disagreeable fellow. 

Lady Irwin, Among his dissipated acquaintance, 
such might be expected ; but if he had had the resolu- 
tion to write and publish a book of this description, 
surely he had courage enough to maintain its princi- 
ples. 

Mr, Allen, He had not. Indeed, want of resolution 
seems to have been his chief bane through life. For 
his declarations as to religion, he found himself slighted, 
instead of encouraged; so that he has told us, he 
thought it incumbent upon him to enliven his character. 

Lady Invin, And in what manner did he do this ? 

Mr, Allen. In a way that, I am sure, your ladyship 
would never have imagined. He had a notion that nothing 
would tend to render a man so much esteemed by the 
world, as a successful play ; so he now sat down to write 
a comedy. This he entitled ** The Funeral ; or Grief 
a-la-mode." It was acted with success ; and obtained 
for him the particular notice of the king, William the 
Third, who made him some promises of preferment. 
Eut all his hopes vanished on the death of his royal 
patron. 

Edmund, In the ensuing reign, however, he obtained, 
tlu-ough the recommendation of Mr. Addison, the office 
of writership of the Gazette ; which, with common pru- 
dence, might have supported him. Whilst he held 
this office, he wrote two other comedies, the '* Tender 
Husband,'' and the *' Lying Lovers;" the former of 
which was acted with success, and the latter was con- 
demned. Disappointed, upon the whole, in his expecta- 
tions from the stage, he now turned his thoughts to the 
project of his well-known periodical publication, the 
'^ tatler." 

Lady Irwin, This he printed under the fictitious 



162 GENERAL WRITERS. 

name of BickerstafF. What was the reason of his so 
doing ? 

Edmund: Dean Swift had, not long before, pub- 
lished some humoron^ pieces, under the name of Isaac 
BickerstafF, with such success, that Steele, to recom- 
mend his own work, assumed the same signature; 
having, however, secured the assistance of its original 
owner. The Tatler was received with universal appro- 
bation, and might have proved to him an important 
foundation of future prosperity, had he not been one 
of the most improvident men that ever existed. 

Lady Irtvin, But it is said, that the prudence of his 
w ife operated as an useful check upon his extravagance. 
Mr, Allen, I presume you speak of his second wife, 
who was a woman of fortune and great beauty. She 
was not merely prudent, she was parsimonious ; for she 
hoarded up the greatest part of her own income, of 
which she had cautiously reserved the management 
almost entirely to herself. 

Edmund, Hence it was that Steele gave her the 
name of Prne^ or Prudence. They appear to have 
been almost always jarring, or quarrelling. 

Mr, Allen, Steele's imprudence of generosity, or 
vanity of prbfusion, kept him incurably necessitous ; 
and so inconsistent was his conduct, that it has been 
observed, he wrote essays on the follies of the day, in 
an enormous black wig, which cost him fifty guineas ! 
He built an elegant villa at Hampton Court, to which 
he gave the name of *'The Hovel!" He detected the 
fallacy of the South Sea scheme, while he himself in- 
vented projects, not inferior, either in magnificence or 
in misery! He even turned alchemist, and wanted to 
gain gold ; — merely for the purpose of distributing it 
to others ! 

Lady Irwin, How extraordinary and how unac- 
countable a character ! But I was not aware he had 
been a projector. 

Mr, Allen, That was one of the leacfing features iu 



SIR RICHARD STEELE. 163 

his character ; and was, in a great measure, the 
cause of those embarrassments, in which he latterly 
became involved. Among his other schemes, he had 
one for conveying fish alive to market. He obtained 
a patent for the protection of it; but, instead of 
tending to retrieve his affairs, it only involved him 
more deeply in distress. 

Edmund, The fame that Steele derived from the pub- 
lication of the Tatler, obtained for him the situation of 
a Commissioner of the Stamp Duties ; and at length 
induced him to procure a seat in the house of com- 
mons. 

Lady Irwin. And what occurred to him as a mem- 
ber of parliament? 

Edmund, He wrote certain pamphlets, which were 
deemed ** scandalous and seditious," and he was ex- 
pelled the house. 

Frederic, Tliis was in the reign of Queeji Anne; 
but on the accession of George the First to the throne, 
in behalf of whom these pamphlets had been wTitten, 
he was admitted into favour at court, received the 
honour of knighthood, and appointed to the office of 
surveyor of the royal stables at Hampton Court. He 
shortly afterwards obtained a share in the patent of 
one of the playhouses ; which was a source of consi- 
derable emolument to him. 

Mr. Allen, But as he still wanted economy, so he 
was still involved in difficulties. I will relate to you 
a circumstance that occured on his inviting several 
persons of rank to dine with him. They were asto- 
nished by an unusual number of livery servants which 
surrounded his table. After dinner, one of them 
inquired, *' How so expensive a train of domestics 
could be consistent with his fortune?" — ''Oh!" he 
replied, '' they are fellows of whom I would very 
wHlingly be rid." Being asked '' why he did not dis- 
charge them?" he acknowledged that they were bailiffs, 
who had taken possession of his house, in consequence 
of a debt which he was unable to discharge; and 



164 GENERAL WRITERS. 

whom, as he could not send them away, he had thought 
it convenient to put into livery, that they might at least 
do him credit as long as they stayed. 

Lady Irwin, It was impossible that such a man 
should ever be long free from embarrassment. But 
how did this procedure terminate ? 

Mr, Allen, His friends, diverted by the expedient, 
paid the debt, and thus discharged the attendants; 
at the same time obliging Steele solemnly to promise, 
that they *' should never find him graced with such a 
retinue again." 

Frederic, But his heedless prodigality was incorri- 
gible ; and, at length, involved in lawsuits, and other 
apparently inextricable difficulties, he retired into 
W ales, where he was seized with a paralytic disorder, 
which terminated his life, on the first of September, 
1729. 

Mr, Allen. The writings of Sir Richard Steele, not- 
withstanding the unaccountable singularity of his own 
conduct, are all favourable to the cause of religion and 
virtue. No one ever attempted, with greater success 
than he, to form the mind to virtue, or to polish the 
manners of common life ; and no one ever better incul- 
cated the most useful and instructive lessons. 

He wrote a principal part of the Tatler, and a 
considerable proportion of the papers in the Specta- 
tor, and the Guardian. These are for the most part 
known by the signature T. He was likewise the 
author of the comedies of the *' Funeral," the ** Tender 
Husband," and '* Ikying Lovers." His epistolary cor- 
respondence has lately been published ; and several of 
his miscellaneous pieces have been reprinted in one 
volume, entitled, '* The Town Talk ; the Fish-pool ; 
the Plebeian; the Old Whig; the Spinsters; &c. 
By the Aothors of the Tatler, Spectator and Guardian/' 



JONATHAN bWIFT. IG-J 



TWENTY-THIRD EVENING. 

Fredenc. We have lately spoken of the lives of 
two einiiient general writers, Addison, and Steele ; 
whose characters were widely different. I will this 
evening introduce a third, that of the Dean of St 
Patrick's, Dr. Jonathan Swift; whose character 
is very unlike that of either of the other two. 

Mr. Allen, Little that is amiable is to be found 
either in the character or conduct of Swift. A stern, 
inflexible temper and pride in a supreme degree, were 
the basis upon which were built firmness, and perhaps 
sincerity ; but these alloyed with arrogance, implaca- 
bility, carelessness of giving pain, and a total want of 
candour. Addison was a man of mild and amiable 
mamiers, and Steele had great natural amenity of dis- 
position ; but Swift was obdurate, unfeeling, and often 
morose and sullen. 

Frederic stated, respecting him, that he was the 
posthumous son of Jonathan Swift, an attorney in 
Dublin ; in which city he had been born, in the year 
1667 : that his mother, though left in distressed cir- 
cumstances, had been compelled by grief, and a bad 
state of health, to put him out to nurse, when about a 
year old ; and that the nurse, having occasion to visit 
a sick relative at Whitehaven, conveyed the child to 
England without the knowledge of his mother, and 
kept him with her during three years, which she spent 
in this country. 

Lady Irwin, You. speak of Swift having been an 
Irislunan. I thought it had not been decided whether 
this really had been the case or not. 

Sir Charles, From his early residence in England, 
and his mother having, during his childhood, lived 
with her friends at Leicester, many persons have 
imagined him to have been an Englishman; and he 
V. as often heard to exclaim, when out of humour with 



166 GENERAL WRITERS. 

the Irish, that he was so; yet, in his cooler hours, iie^ 
never denied the real country of his birth. 

Lady Irwin, Then, as he was brought to England 
when a child, and as his mother afterwards resided in 
England, I presume he was educated in this country. 

Frederic, No, he was educated first in a school at 
Kilkenny, and afterwards at Trinity College, Dublin ; 
where he was supported by the bounty of his uncle, 
Mr. Goodwin Swift, an eminent barrister. 

Lady Irwin, What was his behaviour in college ? 

Edmund, He was perfectly regular, and, in every 
respect, obedient to the academical discipline ; yet he 
was little regarded, and less beloved, by his compa- 
nions. The academical exercises also were not suited 
to his taste. His favourite studies were history and 
poetry, in which he made gi*eat progress ; but he had 
so little applied his mind to other branches of science, 
that, when he presented himself, at the usual period, 
as a candidate for the degree of bachelor of arts, he 
was set aside on account of insufficiency; and he at 
last obtained his degree by an act, as it was termed, of 
'' especial favour," (speciali gratia) which in Dublin 
implies the greatest reproach. 

Sir Charles, It has always appeared to me perfectly 
unaccountable, that a man of his unquestionable talent, 
should thus have suffered himself to be degraded, from 
the want of only very moderate application to those 
studies which were required by the college. 

Frederic, Swift imagined himself to have been un- 
fairly treated ; left Dublin, and went to Oxford. Here, 
to recover his lost time, he applied with extraordinary 
assiduity; and is said to have studied, on an average, 
at least eight hours a day for seven years, 

Mr. Allen, This part of his history, as Dr. John- 
son has justly remarked, well deserves to be remem- 
bered. It affords an useful admonition, and a powerful 
encouragement to persons whose abilities may havd 
been rendered, for a time, useless by their passions, or 
their pleasures; and who, having lost one part of life 



JONATHAN SWIFT. 1G7 

ill idleuess, are tempted to throw away the remainder 
in despair. 

Frederic. It ought to have been observ^ed that, before 
Swift had left the university, his uncle, from a disor- 
dered mind, and the consequent disarrangement of his 
affairs, had become unable to support him any longer ; 
that tlie subsequent part of his expenses were defrayed 
by Sir William Temple, whose lady was distantly 
related to Swift's mother ; and that, upon quitiing the 
university, he went to reside in the house of Sir Wil- 
liam. Here he passed two years; and, though in the 
mean time, he was afflicted with a long and dangerous 
illness, conti^'^cted by eating an immoderate quantity of 
fruit, he continued indefatigable in his studies. 

Lady Irwin, For what particular profession had 
Swift been educated ? 

Frederic, There can be little doubt but he looked 
forward to the church as his most probable profession ; 
though, at one time, he entertained hopes of some situa- 
tion in the state. It is, however, certain that he was 
admitted into holy orders in the year 1694. 

Edmund. King AVilliam the Third promised him 
the first vacancy which should happen among the pre- 
pendaries of Westminster, or Canterbury. He was 
disappointed in this expectation ; but the Earl of Berkeley 
procured for him the rectory of Agher, with the vica- 
rages of Laracor, and Rathbeggan, in the diocess of 
Meath ; worth, together, about two hundred and sixty 
pounds a year. 

Frederic, Yet these were a source of disappointment 
to him. He had hoped to obtain something much 
better. 

Mr, Allen, Swift, through his whole life, was a dis- 
appointed man ; but how far, justly, I w ill not attempt 
to say. He used to relate that, when a little boy, he 
once went a fishing; that he felt a great fish at the end 
of Ids line, which he drew up almost to the land, but 
it dropt in: and that the disappointment which he 



168 GENERAL WRlTEilS. 

experienced, and which long continued to vex him, he 
considered a type of all his future disappointments. 

Lady Irwin, I cannot imagine Swift to have had 
much fervour of piety, or to have been peculiarly 
zealous in the discharge of his clerical duties. 

Frederic, There are two stories told of him, which, 
if true, would prove your ladyship's conjecture to be 
correct. After he had taken possession of his livings, 
he gave public notice to his parishioners at Laracor, 
that he would read public prayers every Wednesday 
and Friday. On the subsequent Wednesday, the bell 
was rung, and he ascended the desk. But, after 
remaining there some time, and finding that the congre- 
gation consisted only of himself and the clerk, he began 
the service with great composure, '* Dearly beloved 
Roger, the Scripture moveth you and me in sundry 
places;" and so proceeded to the end of the service. 

The other story would prove him still more blame- 
able. He was on a visit to his friend, the Rev. Dr. 
Raymond, vicar of Trim. After dinner, one Sunday, 
as the bells were ringing for evening prayers, he laid 
a trifling wager with the doctor, that he would begin 
the prayers before him. They ran, as fast as they 
could, to the church. Dr. Raymond, the nimbler of 
the two, arrived first at the door, entered the church, 
and proceeded with decency to put on the surplice. 
Swift, not slackening his pace, ran up the aisle, and 
stepping into the desk, began the service without cere- 
mony, and thus won his wager. 

Lady Irwin, These must surely have been fabrica- 
tions. Unfavourably as I think of his character in 
general, I will not believe Swift to have been guilty of 
such indecent levity as this. 

Mr, Allen, In many respects, however, he appears 
to have conducted himself with little decorum a^ a 
clergyman. In his annual journies to Leicester, to see 
his mother, he travelled as no other person in his situa- 
tion of life would have done. He always went on foot. 



JOMATHAN SWIFT. IGO* 

except when the weather was bad, and then he took a 
place in one of the road waggons. He generally dined 
at obscure ale-houses, with waggoners, pedlars, ostlers, 
and similar company; and lodged where\er he saw 
written or painted over the door, ** Lodgings for a 
penny;" though he usually bribed the maid with six- 
pence, for a separate bed, and clean sheets. 

Lady Irwin, Could this have originated in an affec- 
tation of singularity, or in narrow and parsimonious 
habits. 

Mr, Allen. I am inclined to think from singularity 
only, for many acts of his generosity have been re- 
corded. For instance, the first five hundred pounds 
that he could call his own, he lent in small sums, to 
diligent and necessitous tradesmen, to be repaid by 
weekly instalments, and without interest. This does 
not appear like parsimony. 

Edmund, During his residence at Laracor, Swift 
invited to Ireland, a young lady, whose name was John- 
son ; and whom he has celebrated by the appellation of 
Stella. She was the daughter of Sir William Tem- 
ple's steward; had a small independent fortune, and 
was at that time about eighteen years of age. When 
resident in the house of Sir William, Swift had as- 
sisted in cultivating and improving her mind; and 
she was now extremely beautiful and accomplished. 
Miss Johnson accepted the invitation, and went to 
Ireland, accompanied by her friend, Mrs. Dingley. 

Sir Charles, This w^as certainly one of the most sin- 
gular connexions that ever was formed ; nor is it pos- 
sible now to ascertain, whether Swift was originally 
desirous of the society of Stella as a wife, or a friend. 
They never lived in the same house. When Swift 
was absent, the ladies resided at his parsonage ; but 
when he returned, they always removed, either to the 
Iiouse of his friend. Dr. Raymond, or to a lodging. 
Nor were Miss Johnson and Swift ever known to have 
met, except in the presence of a third person. 
I 



170 GENERAL WRITERS. 

Ft^ederic, Not long after Miss Johnson first went to 
Ireland, Queen Anne succeeded to the English throne, 
and Swift came to this country, where he took his 
degree of doctor of divinity. He continued to reside 
here for some time ; and now commenced his career 
as a political writer on the side of the party called 
the Whigs; which, during a considerable interval of 
this reign, had the ascendancy in public affairs. 

Edmund, The queen had been so much pleased 
with the political conduct of Swift, that it is suppiosed 
she would have given him a bishopric, had not Arch- 
bishop Sharpe, according to Swift's own account, repre- 
sented him to her majesty as not being a Christian. This 
was the consequence of his havmg been the author of 
a satirical work, entitled ^^ A Tale of a Tub." 

^ir Charles He had, however, obtained what most 
persons would have been inclined to call good prefer- 
ment; for, in 1713, he had been made Dean of St. 
Patrick's, Dublin. 

Frederic, His writings had, at this time, rendered 
him so obnoxious in Ireland, that his reception in 
Dublin was not very flattering. The rabble had been 
taught, by his enemies, to consider him connected with 
the Pretender, the son of James the Second; and they 
carried their detestation so far, as to pelt him with 
stones and mud, on his way through the streets. The 
clergy, and others belonging to St. Pati-ick's, also 
received him with great reluctance. He was thwarted 
in all his measures, avoided as a pestilence, opposed 
as an intruder, and marked out as a public enemy. 

Lady Irwin, And how did this terminate ? 

Sir Charles, Fewer talents, and less firmness, than 
those which Swift possessed, must have yielded to such 
opposition. But so strange are, often, the revolutions 
which take place in the opinions of mankind, that he 
lived, as we soon shall see, to govern, with absolute 
sway, the very rabble that had thus insulted him. 

Lady Irwin, You have spoken of Stella : it did not 



JONATHAN SWIFT. 171 

occur to me, to ask you the particulars relative to 
another female favourite of Swift, Avhom he styled 
Vanessa. 

Frederic, Her name was Vanhomrigh. Her father 
Avas a Dutch merchant, who had settled and died in 
Dublin. She had a passion for reading, and some 
taste for poetry ; and entertained so strong an attach- 
ment for Swift, that she even made him an offer of 
marriage. He affected to believe her in jest; then 
rallied her on so whimsical a choice ; and, at last, put 
her off*, without an absolute refusal. This was after 
his marriage with Stella. Miss Vanhomrigh suspected 
that Swift's conduct was not altogether correct; and 
wrote to Stella, to inquire whether she \^ as, or was 
not, married. The answer was in the affirmative. 

Mr. Allen. And proved a death-warrant to poor 
Vanessa, who survived the sad intelligence only a few 
weeks. 

Sir Charles. I can scarcely imagine the conduct of 
any man to have been more unprincipled than that of 
Swift towards this unfortunate lady. Of her death, a 
late writer has remarked, that Swift w as as directly, 
and as guiltily, the cause, as if he had plunged a dagger 
into her heart. 

Mr, Allen. But we have yet to speak of the marriage 
and death of Stella. 

Sir Charles. There again, favourite as she desen edly 
was in his esteem, he conducted himself as no man of 
principle could have done. After she had been in Ire- 
land about sixteen years, he was hiduced to marry 
her; but, from an extraordmary caprice, he did this 
on an express condition, that their marriage should 
never be divulged, and that they should continue to 
live separately as before. 

Lady Irwin. These were terms which no man had a 
right to prescribe. 

Sir Charles. Stella, however, having no alternative, 
betwixt her affection for Swift, and the fear of losing 
liim for ever, assented to them. But her state was 
I 2 



172 GENERAL WRITERS. 

afterwards most deplorable. She became the prey oi' 
melancholy; and, at length, finding her dissolution 
approach, entreated of him to grant a dying request : 
'' As the ceremony of marriage had passed between 
them, in order to put it out of the power of slander to 
be busy with her fame after her death ; she adjured 
Lim, by their friendship, to let her have the satisfaction 
of dying at least, though she had not lived, his acknow- 
ledged wife !" With an inhumanity scarcely ever ex- 
ceeded, he made no reply ; but, turning from her, 
walked out of the room : nor ever saw her afterwards 
during the few days she lived. 

Lady Irwin, Every one must detest a mind that 
could dictate such conduct to an amiable, affectionate, 
and unoffending female. Bat you spoke of Swift 
having attained great popularity ; pra}^ afford me some 
relief from the lamentable history of Stella, by stating 
the particulars. 

Sir Charles. A patent, as it is said, had been surrep- 
titiously obtained by a person whose name was Wood, 
to coin, for the Irish people, half-pence, to the value 
of one hundred and eighty thousand pounds. By this 
privilege he would have derived an enormous profit; 
and, proportionally, have impoverished the nation. 
Swift, under the appellation of Drapier, addressed a 
series of letters to the people, urging them not to receive 
this money; and Wood, though powerfully supported, 
was compelled to withdraw his patent. This was 
considered so great a service to the public, that, even 
before Swift was known to have been the author of the 
letters, the name of Drapier was hailed with universal 
acclamation. 

Frederic, At first he did not dare to acknowledge 
himself the author, for the fourth letter contained 
several libellous passages. Indeed, that letter had 
been selected as a ground for prosecution ; and a pro- 
clamation was issued, offering a reward of three hun- 
dred pounds for the discovery of the author. 

Sir Charles, It was on this occasion that an incident 



JONATHAN SWIFT. 173 

occurred, which displays the peculiar character of 
Swift in a favourable light. Frederic, I dare say, will 
recollect it. 

Frederic, He had employed his butler to transcribe 
the letters, previously to their being sent to the press. 
This man, soon after the appearance of the proclama- 
tion, had absented himself one night from the deanery, 
and there was reason to believe he had betrayed his 
master. On his return, in the morning, the dean 
ordered him to strip off his livery, and quit the house. 
'* I know," said he, *' that I am in your power; but, for 
that very reason, I will not bear either your insolence, 
or neglect!" The man, who had merely yielded to 
the temptation of drinking, confessed his fault, and 
entreated to be forgiven ; but the dean was inexorable. 
The man was dismissed, and not again received till the 
term of the offered reward had expired. Soon after 
this, his master sent for him. He ordered all the 
servants to attend, and told them to observe, that 
Robert was no longer their fellow-servant, but Mr. 
Blakeney, verger of St. Patrick's ; w^hich place he had 
procured for him in reward for his fidelity. The grate- 
ful man, however, continued to officiate as his butler 
for several years afterwards. 

Mr, Allen. I am inclined to allow the dean consi- 
derable merit for this prompt dismissal of bis servant; 
though it w as at least possible he might know that the 
man w ould not dare to betray him. 

Frederic. How so, sir ? 

Mr. Allen. From a dread of the resentment of 
that populace, which, on another occasion. Swift said 
to Dr. Boulter, Archbishop of Armagh, '' If I had 
lifted my finger they would have torn you to pieces." 

Sir Charles. We now^ approach a most dark and 
melancholy period. After the death of Stella, Swift 
became extremely retired ; the natural austerity of 
his temper increased, and he shunned the society even 
of his most intimate friends. Fits of giddiness and 
deafness, to which he had occasionally been subject, 



174 GENERAL WRITERS.^ 

became more frequent and more severe ; and his 
memory gradually decayed. At length liis passions 
became so ungovernable, his memory so imperfect, 
and his reason so depraved, that, from the year 1739, 
the utmost precautions were taken to prevent strangers 
from approaching him. Early in 1742, the small 
remains of his understanding became wholly confused, 
and the violence of his rage increased to a degree of 
madness. His meat was brought to him cut into mor- 
sels, which he generally ate walking. Several large 
boils broke out on his body. These, by the pain they 
caused, kept him awake nearly a whole month; 
during one week of which, it was with difficulty that 
five persons restrained him, by mere force, from 
tearing out his own eyes. He afterwards sunk into a 
state of total insensibility, slept much, and could not, 
without much persuasion, be induced to walk across 
the room. He had continued silent, in a state of per- . 
feet idiotcy for a whole year, when his housekeeper 
entered his room on his birth-day, and told him that, 
'^bonfires and illuminations were preparing to cele- 
brate itf^ he immediately replied, ** It is all folly; 
they had better let it alone." 

Lady Irwin, How awful an history ! And how 
extraordinary a sentence to have been uttered after 
so long a silence ! 

Sir Charles, Subsequently to this he had a few 
lucid intervals. In 1744, he occasionally called his 
servant by name ; and once, in an attempt to speak to 
him, not being able to express his meaning, he showed 
great uneasiness, and at last exclaimed, ** I am a fool." 
He continued a miserable spectacle of human weak- 
ness, till the end of October, 1745 ; when, every power 
of nature being exhausted, he expired, without a 
struggle, in the seventy-eighth year of his age. 

Mr, Allen. It is scarcely possible to imagine a more 
awful lesson than that which the life of Swift exhibits. 
Whatever had been the feelings of anguish which he 
had inllicted upon others, these were, at last, severely 



JONATHAN SWIFT. 175 

visited upon himself; and if we could dare to pro- 
nounce concerning the decrees of Providence, we 
might almost suppose him to have heen a living monu- 
ment of the recompense of cruelty. 

Sir Charles, But it is time we should speak of his 
writings, which are extremely numerous. 

Mr. Allen. They are so numerous as to admit of 
only a very general account of them, the last edition 
having been published in nineteen volumes in octavo. 
Those which have obtained the greatest celebrity are, 
the " Tale of a Tub," '^ Gulliver's Travels," ^^ Dra- 
pier's Letters," and his voluminous *' Correspondence." 
As a writer. Swift was original, and probably will, 
in some respects, always be unparalleled. In a grave 
style of wit he was inferior to none. His irony is 
maintained with such an air of simplicity, that it 
would deceive any reader not aware of his drift. His 
writings abound in ludicrous ideas of every kind : 
these are abundantly interspersed in his poems, but 
they too often deviate into grossness. That he was 
capable of high polish and elegance, some of his 
pieces sufficiently prove ; but his habitual taste led 
him to the humorous, the famihar, and sarcastic. 
His prose writings have been considered a model of 
purity, clearness, and simplicity ; and have been 
spoken of with exaggerated praise. He certainly 
expresses his meaning with perfect precision ; but this 
is done without grace, and he is chiefly remarkable for 
a great choice and profusion of common words and 
expressions. Were it possible for Swift to revive, he 
would, probably, attain little distinction as a didactic, 
or argumentative writer ; though in that severe species 
of wit and humour, for which he was remarkable, he 
would not find a rival. 



170 GENERAL WRITERS. 



TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING. 

On the subject of style in prose writing, Frederic^ 
this evening, remarked, there was none with which 
he had been more pleased, than that of Dr. Gold- 
smith; particularly in his interesting little novel. 
'' The Vicar of Wakefield." He did not profess to 
consider himself a judge of literary merit, but he 
could not refrain from stating, after the conversation of 
last night, relative to the style of Swift's writings, the 
interest that he had experienced in reading the works of 
this author. Edmund said, that he very much admired 
Goldsmith's '* History of the Earth and Animated 
Nature ;" but Frederic, who, under the 4;uition of Mr. 
Allen, had become somewhat of a natui-alist, observed 
that, the elegance of its style he would readily admit ; 
but that he could not certainly say he admired the 
work : as, with even his inexperience in natural his- 
tory, he had been able to detect in it a great number 
of errors. 

Mr, Allen, Dr. Johnson, who well knew the au- 
thor's ignorance of this subject, one day said to a 
friend, during the time that Goldsmith was writing it, 
that, '' he would make his natural history as entertain- 
ing as a Persian tale." 

Lady Irwin, Was not Dr. Goldsmith a native of 
Yorkshire ? 

Frederic, He was an Irishman, born in the parish 
of Forney, and county of Longford, on the twenty- 
ninth of November, 1728. 

Lady Irwin, What were the particulars of his 
education ? 

Frederic. His father was a clergyman of the 
Establisjied Church. He had seven children, five 
sons and two daughters ; and an income so small, as 
not to admit of his giving to all of them a literary 
education. Oliver, the son of whom we are speaking, 
was, consequently, intended for a mercantile employ- 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 177 

ment. His instruction in reading, writing, and arith- 
metic, was obtained at a common school, the master of 
which was an old soldier. This man had been a 
quarter-master in Queen Anne's wars, and, having 
travelled much, and having a romantic imagination, 
amused his pupil with marvellous stories of his own 
adventures; and is supposed to have imparted to his 
mind the first tincture of that wandering and unsettled 
disposition, by which it was afterwards so strongly 
marked. 

Lady Irwin, But was he not distinguished in his 
youth by strong traits of genius ? 

Frederic, Yes; and these induced the friends of 
his father to contribute towards the expense of placing 
him in a reputable school, for the purpose of his being 
afterwards sent to the University of Dublin. He was 
admitted a member of Trinity College, in his fifteenth 
year ; but under a tutor of such harsh and overbearing 
disposition, that he sank into despair. At length, hav- 
ing sold his books and clothes, he left college, and 
commenced a wanderer without any views even of sub- 
sistence; without friends, and almost without money. 
jSTot long after this he suffered such extremity of hunger 
that, in one instance, we are informed, a handful of 
peas, which a girl gave him at a wake, was considered 
a luxurious meal. 

Lady Irwin, And what, Frederic, became of him 
after this ? 

Frederic. His elder brother, Henry, clothed him 
afresh, took him back to college, and effected a recon- 
ciliation betwixt him and his tutor. 

Mr, Allen, He had next the misfortune to lose his 
father; and his friends were desirous that he should 
prepare himself for holy orders; but Goldsmith objected 
to a clerical life, as not suited to the general turn of 
his disposition. 

Frederic, So he chose, when he left college, to be- 
come a tutor in a private family. 

Edmund, And this kind of life soon became so^ irk- 
] 3 



17B GiiNERAL %VRITERS, 

some to him that, with thirty pounds in his pocket, he 
set out as a wanderer about the country; and, after an 
absence of six weeks, having, in the mean time, gone 
through a series of whimsical adventures, he returned 
to his mother's house without a penny. 

Sir Charles, His whole life was a series of impru- 
dences, and aflfords an useful lesson of tlie miseries to 
which even a successful man must be subject, if he be 
inattentive to the common concerns of life. What, I 
would ask, happened immediately after he was recon- 
ciled to his mother and his friends? He was. supplied 
with money at his own request, was sent to the Temple 
to study the law ; and, in his way, met with a sharper, 
who tempted him to play at cards, cheated him of fifty 
pounds, and once again ruined him. 

Mr. Allen, This conduct was extremely blameable, 
for Goldsmith well knew his friends could ill indeed 
afford to supply him with money. 

Sir Charles, They were, however, abundantly kind 
to him. They again received him; and, as he had now 
resolved to think no more of the law, but to study 
physic, they sent him to Edinburgh; where, though 
with little regularity or perseverance, he applied him- 
self to attain a knowledge of the several branches of 
medicine under the professors in that university. 

Lady Irwin, And what were his progress and suc- 
cess there ? 

Frederic, Goldsmith had always something that 
pleased him better than stated application. In Edin- 
burgh he was chiefly desirous of recommending him- 
self to the notice of his fellow-students, as a social 
companion, and a man of humour; consequently his 
progress in study was not very rapid ; and, after he had 
been there somewhat more than twelve months, he was 
obliged to leave the place with precipitation, in conse- 
quence of having become security for the payment of a 
debt contracted by one of his associates. He embarked 
on board a ship for Bourdeaux, with some Scotchmen, 
who had been enlisting soldiers for the French army; 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 179 

but the vessel being driven, by stress of weather, to 
take shelter in the river Tyne, he was arrested, and 
cast into prison. 

Mr, Allen, This proved to him a singularly pro- 
\ddential event; for the ship sailed during the time he 
was in prison, was wrecked at the mouth of the Ga- 
ronne, and every person on board perished. His 
uncle, who had hitherto chiefly supported him, relieved 
him after a fortnight's confinement, equipped him 
afi'esh, and procured him a passage, on board a Dutch 
ship, to Rotterdam, from whence he was to proceed to 
Leyden, to complete his medical studies. 

Edmund, Never, certainly, had this man his equal 
in carelessness and imprudence. After having con- 
tinued in Leyden about a year, he again ruined him- 
self by gaming, and borrowed a sum of money to 
enable him to return to England. 

Frederic, Yes; and before he left the country, he 
spent the whole of it at a Dutch florisf s, in purchasing 
costly flowers as a present for his uncle ; and set out on 
his travels possessed of only one clean shui, and with- 
out any money in his pocket. 

Sir Charles. In such circumstances any other man 
than Goldsmith would have laid his account with 
staning ; but he has himself told us, that, in the 
midst of his wretchedness, he had always *' a knack 
at hoping." 

Mr, Allen, And what, in this miserable plight, 
would have been thought insanity in any other per- 
son, he resolved 

Ijidy Incin, To return of course immediately to 
England, to be re-equipped by the kindness of his 
friends, and, I presume, was now disappointed. 

Mr, Allen, No; to make the tour of Europe. 

Lady Irwin, Admirable ! without a shilling in his 
pocket. Pray how was that to be accomplished ? 

Frederic, He had some knowledge of the French 
language, and played tolerably well on the German 
flute. It is said, that his learning produced liim a 



180 GENERAL WRITERS. 

hospitable reception at most of the monasteries, and 
that his music insured him a welcome from the pea- 
sants. He was enabled to pursue his rambles, which 
he performed on foot, partly by demanding, at the 
miiversities, to enter the lists as a disputant ; by which, 
according to the custom of many of them, he was 
entitled, on a sufficient display of talent, to a reward 
in money, a dinner, and a bed for the night. When 
he arrived at Geneva, he was recommended as a tra- 
velling tutor to a young man, who had been clerk to 
an attorney, but who, by the death of an uncle, had 
become possessed of a considerable sum of money, 
and was determined, on the receipt of his fortune, to 
see the world. 

Lady Irwin, Why, this is nearly the history of George 
Primrose, the pliilosopliical vagabond, in the Vicar of 
Wakefield. 

Mr. Allen, Whose character, perhaps your ladyship 
may not be aware, was intended, by Goldsmith, as an 
outline of his own. 

Lady Lncin, I did not know this before. 

Frederic, It was part of the agreement between 
Goldsmith and his pupil, that, although he was to be 
the tutor, the pupil was, in every particular, to govern 
himself; and Goldsmith soon found that the young 
gentleman had a perfect knowledge of the value of 
money, and that avarice was his predominant passion. 
It may easily be imagined that, with dispositions so 
dilferent, these two persons would not long continue 
together; and so it turned out. They proceeded from 
Geneva to the south of France, where they quarrelled; 
and the pupil, having paid the small portion of salary 
which was due to Goldsmith, embarked at Marseilles 
and left him there. After having wandered through 
the most interesting parts of Italy, for about six 
months. Goldsmith bent his course toward England, 
and landed at Dover, in the year 1756. 

Sir Charles, He was, at this time, about twenty- 
tight years of age. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 181 

Mr, Allen, And the state of his finances was such 
that, on his arrival in London, his whole stock of 
money amounted only to a few half-pence. He had now 
to seek for a ncAV means of subsistence. 

Edmund, And, for taat purpose, applied, under a 
feigned name, to several apothecaries, with the hope 
of being received in the capacity of a journeyman. 

Frederic, Humiliating as this procedure must have 
been to a man of education. Goldsmith was unsuccess- 
ful. His broad Irish accent, and the general sloven- 
liness and uncouthness of his appearance, exposed 
him, in many instances, even to insult. A chemist 
in the city, however, commiserating his forlorn appear- 
a ice, and the simplicity of his manner, hired him as 
an assistant in his laboratory. By the aid of a re- 
spectable physician, whom he had formerly known. 
Goldsmith, after a little while, was liberated from this 
degrading employment. 

Sir Charles, It would be an endless task for Fre- 
deric to go through all the particulars of the various 
fortmie of Goldsmith. I will, therefore, endeavour 
to shorten the story, by stating that he appears next 
to have settled as a physician; but that finding, as 
he himself said, *' Plenty of patients, but no fees;" 
or, in other words, being wholly devoid of perseve- 
rance, he gave up this project, and engaged himself as 
an assistant in a school for young gentlemen at Peck- 
ham. It was in this situation that Goldsmith first 
appears to have earned any money by the exertions of 
his pen ; and, after a little while, he was induced to 
leave it, by an offer from the editor of the iVlontlily 
Review of lodging, board, and a handsome salary, on 
condition that he should write some of the leading 
articles in that work. He at the same time conducted 
the Lady's Magazine for another bookseller, and pub- 
lished other works which proved eminently success fuL 

Lady Irwin. I am glad to hear that he at last be- 
came settled. T shall now hope to be informed of his re- 
formation. He who could so well instruct others, must, 



182 GENERAL WRITERS. 

surely, have himself felt the benefits of a serious turn 
of mind. 

Edmund. He was still bent upon wandering; and 
actually applied to Lord Bute, then the prime minister, 
for a salary to enable him to go into Asia, for the 
purpose of acquiring a knowledge, as far as might be, 
of any arts peculiar to the East, and introducing them 
into this country. But his application was treated with 
neglect. 

Frederic, When this project was mentioned to Dr. 
Johnson, he replied, " Of all men that I know. Gold- 
smith is the most unfit to go out upon such an inquiry; 
for he is utterly ignorant of such arts as we already 
possess, and consequently could not know what would 
be accessions to our present stock of mechanical know- 
ledge. Sir, he would bring home a grinding-barrow, 
which you see in ever}^ street of London, and think he 
had furnished a wonderful improvement.'' 

Mr, Allen, This observation appears to have been 
perfectly in character ; for no one knew the real merits 
and mind of Goldsmith better than Dr. Johnson. 
There can be no doubt but he had almost as little 
knowledge of the world as a child. The proofs of 
this, and of his excessive vanity, are almost innu- 
merable. 

Edmund, I well recollect one anecdote illustrative 
of his simplicity. 

Frederic, And I several of his vanity. 

Edmund, After he had attained some celebrity as 
an author, he was requested to wait upon the late 
Duke of Northumberland, in consequence of the satis- 
faction which that nobleman had received from the 
perusal of one of his publications. Goldsmith related 
to a friend this account of his visit : *' I dressed 
myself in the best manner I could, and, after studying 
some compliments, which I thought were necessary 
on such an occasion, proceeded to Northumberland 
House, and acquainted the servants, that ' I had par- 
ticular business with his grace.' They showed me into 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 1V>{^ 

ail ail ti-cli amber, where, after waiting some time, a 
gentleman very elegantly dressed made his appear- 
ance. Taking him for the duke, T delivered all the 
fine things I had composed, in order to compliment 
him on the honour he had done me; when, to my 
great astonishment, he told me, * I had mistaken him 
for his master, who would see me immediately.' At 
that instant the duke came into the apartment ; and I 
was so confounded, that I wanted words barely suffi- 
cient to express the sense I entertained of his polite- 
ness, and went away excessively chagrined at the 
blunder I had committed." 

Frederic. But this was not the only disagreeable 
consequence of the visit. Notwithstanding the em- 
barrassment he had experienced. Goldsmith was vain 
of the honour, and vvas continually mentioning it. A 
bailift, who had a writ against him, had heard of this 
vanity, and determined to turn it to his own advan- 
tage. He wrote a letter to Goldsmith, informing him 
that '^ he was steward to a nobleman, who had been 
charmed with reading his last production, and begged 
to have the pleasure of seeing him.'^ The poor author 
became the dupe of his o^n folly, assented to accom- 
pany the pretended steward, was arrested on the way, 
and thrown into prison. 

Lady L^n, I certainly never before heard of so 
weak a man, and yet so able a writer as this. T really 
am not much surprised at Lord Or ford having, on one 
occasion, denominated him '' an inspired idiot." 

Frederic. Goldsmith, though his person was short, 
his countenance coarse and vulgar, and his general 
deportment extremely awkward, was peculiarly anxious 
to be admired for his dress. He one day Avent to a 
club, of which he, Dr. Johnson, and other literary men, 
were members, in a glaring bloom-coloured coat, and 
strutted about, looking at his clothes, seemingly desirous 
of attracting the attention of the company. Some of 
them ridiculed his finery. To prove how wrong they 



184 GENEP.AL WRITERS. 

were, he pettishly said, '' Let me tell you, gentlemen, 
when my tailor brought home this coat, he begged of 
me to tell ail my friends who made it." 

Sir Charles, On which Johnson replied, '' that was 
because he knew the strange colour would attract 
crowds to gaze at it, and thus they might hear of him, 
and see how well he could make a coat even of so 
absurd a colour 1" 

Frederic, But the envy of Goldsmith was even more 
absurd than his vanity. He once accompanied two 
beautiful young ladies to Paris, and was seriously 
offended because greater attention was paid to them 
than to himself. Indeed any peculiar distinctions 
shown to other persons excited his envy, and that, 
sometimes, to an excess which seems scarcely credible. 
He was one day at an exhibition of puppets called the 
Fantocini, when some persons, who sat next him, ob- 
served with what dexterity one of them was made to toss 
a pike. Ridiculous as it may seem, even this praise 
he could not bear; and he exclaimed with warmth, 
'' Pshaw ! I can do it better myself." He w^ent home 
with Mr. Burke to supper, and actually broke his shin 
b}^ attempting to exhibit to the company, how much 
better he could jump over a stick than one of the 
puppets had done. 

Lady Irwin. 1 am inclined to conclude, from what 
you have said, that it must have been the vanity of 
Goldsmith which led him to a silly mode of attempt- 
ing to exhibit talents in conversation to which he was 
unequal ; and thus, on many occasions, rendering him- 
self unpleasantly conspicuous in literary society. 

Mr, Allen, It was so. Dr. Johnson was accustomed 
to say, it was Goldsmith's misfortune to go on in con- 
versation, without knowing how he was to get off: that 
his genius was great, but his knowledge small; and 
that, as he had no settled notions on any subject, so 
be always talked at random. ** It seemed to be his 
iiitention to blurt out whatever was in his mind, and 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 185 

see what would become of it/' Yet Johnson has said 
of him that '* whatever he wrote, he did better than 
any other man could have done." 

Sir Charles, Boswell has remarked, apparently from 
an observation of Dr. Jolinson, that " his mind resem- 
bled a ferlile but thin soil. There was a quick but nat 
a strong vegetation of whatever chanced to be sown. 
No deep root could be struck. The oak of the forest 
did not grow there; but tli^ elegant shrubbery and 
the fragrant parterre." 

Lady Irwin. This observation appears to me per- 
fectly correct, and may be applied to all his works ; 
which certainly have much elegance, but seem to be 
wanting in that depth of knowledge, and that strength 
of intellect, which are so visible in the writings of his 
great contemporary. Dr. Johnson, and those of some 
other eminent men of his own time. 

Mr, Allen, Perhaps it may not be unamusing to run 
over the dates of Goldsmith's principal works, of 
which I believe I have a tolerably good recollection. 
His admirable little story, the '' Vicar of Wakefield," 
was published in 1760; the poem called the ** Tra- 
veller," in 1765 ; his comedy, the '' Good-natured 
Man/^ was successfully performed at Covent Garden 
Theatre in 1768; his '' Deserted Village," was pub- 
lished in 1769; in 1772, his comedy of '' She Stoops 
to Conquer;'' and early in 1774, his " History of the 
Earth and Animated Nature." 

Sir Charles. An anecdote has been related of the 
publication of the Deserted Village, which places the 
character of Goldsmith, as a man of integrity and sim- 
plicity of mind, in a very favourable point of view. A 
bookseller had given him a hundred pounds for the 
copy-right. Goldsmith mentioned this to one of his 
friends a few hours afterwards; and his friend re- 
marked, that it was ** a very large sum for so short a 
performance, being nearly five shillings a line." — '' In 
truth," replied Goldsmith, " I think so too. It certainly 
is much more than the honest man can afford tio give, or 



186 GENERAL WRITERS. 

than the piece is worth. I have not been easy since 
I received it. I will, therefore, go back and return 
him his note." This he actually did, and left it to 
the bookseller to pay him in proportion to the profits 
produced by the sale of the poem, which proved very 
considerable. 

Mr, Allen, It is a remarkable circumstance relative 
to the writings and conduct of Goldsmith, that, un- 
settled and unsteady as he was, he had application 
enough to produce several extensive compilations, 
among which are to be enumerated, his "• History 
of England,'' and ** History of the Earth and Ani- 
mated Nature." His writings were so successful 
that he received from the booksellers at least eight 
thousand pounds in the course of fourteen years, and 
yet he was almost always in debt. 

Sir Charles. His poverty is easily to be accounted 
for. Goldsmith certainly derived great profits from 
his works ; but, being extremely deficient in economy, 
and continuing addicted to gaming, though little ac- 
quainted with the frauds of gamesters, he became the 
prey of those who were unprincipled enough to take 
advantage of his prodigality or ignorance. We are 
also told that he was constantly beset by his own 
countrymen in distress, whose wants, as far as he was 
able, he always relieved ; and, it is said, that he often 
left himself without a guinea, in order to alleviate the 
necessities of others. 

Mr. Allen. The death of Goldsmith seems to have 
been as extraordinary, and as probably induced by 
his own obstinacy, as the misfortunes of his life had 
been occasioned by his excessive imprudence. He 
was seized by a nervous fever; and, contrary to the 
advice of all his medical friends, persisted in an 
improper use of James's fever powder, as a specific 
on which he solely depended for the restoration of 
his health. This expected remedy is said to have 
been the more immediate cause of his death, which 
took place on the fourth of April, 1774, in the forty- 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 187 

fifth year of his age. He was interred in the burying 
ground of the Temple ; and a monument was erected 
to his memory in Westminster Abbey. 

Lady Irwin, You have as yet said nothing of the 
poetry of Goldsmith. 

Mr. Allen, He is usually considered rather as a poet 
of reason, than of fancy or pathos. The Traveller, 
however, is a noble production. Its sentiments are 
always interesting, generally just, and often new. Its 
imagery is elegant, picturesque, and occasionally sub- 
lime ; and its language nervous, highly finished, and 
full of harmony. It is far superior to the Deserted 
Village, wliich, with many beautiful passages, is defec- 
tive in closeness of compression and novelty of imagery, 
and, as it has been remarked, is sicklied over with a 
tone of affected or morbid melancholy. 



TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 

Sir Charles. We, yesterday, had occasion to speak 
of the style of Goldsmith's prose- writings. It is un- 
doubtedly fluent and animated ; but it is by no means 
comparable with that of his great contemporary. Dr. 
Samuel Johnson. *'The Rambler," for instance, 
contains some of the finest sentiments that can be 
imagined, recommended and embellished by the great- 
est harmony and splendour of language. 

Mr. Allen. The style of Johnson has formed a kind 
of era in English composition. It is distinguished by 
a preference for words of Latin extraction, by the 
frequent use of abstract terms, and by an arrangement 
of clauses peculiarly calculated to produce a sonorous 
rotundity of period. He delivers moral maxims, and 
dictatorial sentences with wonderful force. Hence 
he has been aptly styled, the Jupiter tonans of reli- 
gion and morality. It is deserving of remark, that 



188 GENERAL WRITERS. 

Johnson appears first to have assumed his pomp of 
diction in the Ramhler, at the time that he was pro- 
ceeding with his Dictionary ; and that, in the course of 
his work, as he grew famiUar with technical and 
scholastic words, he seems to have thought the bulk 
of his readers were equally learned with himself, or, 
at least, that they would admire his style in propor- 
tion to its splendour and dignity. 

Frederic. And yet he could unbend, and accommo- 
date himself to other notions of excellence ; for, in his 
periodical publication of the '' Idler," it was requisite, 
in order to be consistent with the plan of the work, 
that he should assume a style of ease and unlaboured 
elegance, and it is generally been considered that he 
has, in this respect, been successful. 

Sir Charles. Are you prepared with the life of John- 
son? 

Edmund. We are both prepared, sir. 

Sir Charles. I wish then you would proceed with 
it to-night. 

Edmund. I will commence by stating, that Dr. 
Johnson was born at Litchfield, in Staffordshire, in 
the year 1709. His father was a bookseller, a man of 
athletic form, and violent passions ; wrong headed, 
and, at times, afflicted with a degree of melancholy 
little short of madness. His mother was a woman of 
good understanding, though unimproved by education. 
She assiduously instilled sentiments of piety into the 
infant mind of her son ; as he often acknowledged 
with gratitude. When about eight years old, he was 
sent to the free-school of his native city. Here he was 
never known to have been corrected for any fault 
except talking, and diverting other boys from their 
business. He seems to have learnt by intuition ; for 
though indolence and procrastination were inherent 
in his constitution, whenever he exerted himself he 
far excelled every other boy in the school. 

Mr. Allen. Much of his superiority over the otlier 
boys, was obtained by his memory being peculiarly 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 109 

retentive. He was, however, conscious, in after life, 
of the great disadvantages which he experienced from 
his early indolence, and from his want of regularity in 
study, whilst at school. Do you recollect the account 
that has been given of his amusements when a boy? 

Frederic, Perfectly. His school-fellows, often re- 
ceiving assistance from him in their lessons, submitted 
to his will in almost every thing. Three of the boys 
generally carried him in a morning to school. One, 
in the middle, stooped, while he sat upon his back ; 
and one on each side supported him. He never joined 
with the other boys in their diversions ; and his own 
chief amusement was in the winter, when he took 
pleasure in being drawn upon the ice, by a boy bare- 
footed, who pulled him along by a garter fastened 
round his waist. 

Sir Charles, One circumstance was remarkable in 
Johnson, even when a boy at school. I allude to his 
inviolable regard for truth. 

Mr, Allen, On this subject he one day said to a 
friend, " Accustom your children to a strict attention 
to truth, even in the most trivial particulars. If, for 
instance, a thing happen at one window, and they, 
when relating it, say that it happened at another, do 
not let it pass, bat instantly check them : you do not 
know where deviation from truth will end." 

Lady Irwin, Nothing can be more important, in the 
education of youth, than to teach them the excellence 
of veracity. All the vices of which mankind are 
guilty have had their origin in early life, in a depar- 
ture from truth. 

Edmund, When about nineteen years of age, John- 
son was. sent to Pembroke College, Oxford; and, 
when examined previously to admission, the master 
told him he was the best qualified young man for the 
university that he had ever known to come there. 
The death of his father, in distressed circumstances, 
whilst Johnson was in college, reduced him to diffi- 
culties so great that he was compelled to leave the 



100 GENERAL WRITERS. 

university without a degree, and to accept of the em- 
ployment of under-master in a grammar-school, at 
Market Bosworth, in Leicestershire. 

Frederic. This became a very irksome and dis- 
agreeable employment to him, in every particular; 
and in the course of a few months, he was determined 
to relinquish it. 

Edmund, I think that what we next hear of John- 
son is his marrying a Mrs. Porter, the widow of a 
mercer, in Birmingham, with a fortune of about eight 
hundred pounds. He now set up a private academy 
near I^itchfield, where young gentlemen were to be 
boarded, and educated in the Greek and Latin lan- 
guages. 

Frederic. He did so; but the project was unsuc- 
cessful, for he had only three pupils ; the celebrated 
David Garrick, the actor; his brother, George Garrick, 
and another person. Mrs. Johnson's fortune was nearly 
consumed by tliis speculation, and Johnson himself 
became greatly embarrassed in his circumstances. His 
sense of religion, and his strong reliance on Provi- 
dence, were now, however, a source of the greatest 
comfort and satisfaction to him. 

Mr, Allen, That his mind, at this period, was deeply 
affected by a sense of religion, is evident from a pas- 
sage written by him on the seventh of September, 
1736. '' I have this day entered my twenty-eighth 
year. Mayest thou, O God, enable me, for Jesus 
Christ's sake, to spend this in such manner, that I may 
receive comfort from it at the hour of death, and in 
the day of judgment. Amen." 

Lady Irwin, It is very satisfactory to know that a 
man whose mind was so powerful as Johnson's, should 
have had so full a conviction as he had of the truth of 
Revelation. 

Frederic, Although his circumstances appear, at this 
time, to have been extremely desperate, he deter- 
mined to go to London. This he did, in company 
with Garrick. 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 191 

Sir diaries. And, probably, two such candidates 
for fame and fortune never, before that day, entered 
the metropolis together. They brought with them 
genius, and powers of mind pecuUarly formed by 
nature, for the vocations to which each of them felt 
himself inclined. They acted from the impulse of 
young minds, even then meditating future greatness, 
and, with courage, anticipating success. 

Mr. Allen. It is true, that they each proved emi- 
nently successful; but the risk, particularly on the 
part of Johnson, who was a married man, though with 
no family, was truly alarming. He proposed to earn 
his subsistence by the hard labour of his pen ; chiefly 
in translating works into English, from the Latin and 
French languages,^ and writing for the Gentleman^s, 
and other magazines. 

Frederic. Johnson's reception in London, as an 
author, was not very flattering. Among other persons, 
he applied to Mr. Wilcox, a bookseller of some emi- 
nence, in the Strand ; who, after deliberately surveying 
liis robust fi^ame, told him, with a significant look, 
'' Yomig man, you had better buy a porter's knot !" 

Lady Irwin. What, the colossus of literature be- 
come a porter, and demean himself by carrying boxes, 
and hampers, and parcels ! 

Frederic. Even so ; but, after much exertion, for 
indolent as he naturally was, Johnson was compelled 
to exert himself, or he must have starved, he attained 
great celebrity as a writer. 

Mr. Allen. But how mortifying a reflection is it, 
that a man with talents so extraordinary, and learning 
so great as his, should not have been able, at the age 
of thirty, to force his way to the favour of the public. 
Slow rises worth by poverty depressed. '' He was 
still,'' as lie says himself, *' to provide for the day that 
was passing over him." One of his chief employ- 
ments was to write the parliamentary speeches in the 
Gentleman's Magazine. This he first began to do in 



192 GENEF.AL V/RITERS. 

the year 1740 ; and tlie eloquence of these speeches is. 
in many instances truly admirable. 

Sir Charles, A somewhat singular anecdote has been 
cited respecting one of them. Johnson was not known 
to have had any concern in them; and one day, at 
a dinner, when Mr. Wedderburne (afterwards Lord 
Loughborough), Dr. Johnson, and Dr. Francis, the 
translator of Horace, were present, the latter observed, 
that a particular speech, made by Mr. Pitt (the late 
Lord Chatham), was the best he had ever read. He 
added, that *' he had himself been employed nearly 
eight years in the study of Demosthenes, and had 
finished a translation of that celebrated orator, with all 
the decorations of style and language within the reach 
of his capacity; but that he had met with nothing 
equal to that speech. After having sat for some time 
silent, Johnson said, *^ that speech I wrote in a garret 
in Exeter-street.'' The company stared at each other 
in amazement, and Dr. Francis, asked, '^How could 
it have been written by you?" — '' Sir," said Johnson, 
'^ I wrote it in Exeter-street. I never had been in 
the gallery of the house of commons in my life except 
once. Cave (the proprietor of the Gentleman's Maga- 
zine), and the persons employed under him, gained 
admittance. They brought away the subject of dis- 
cussion, the names of the speakers, the side they took, 
and the order in which they rose, with notes of the 
arguments advanced in the course of the debate. The 
whole was afterwards communicated to me, and T 
composed the speeches in the form they now have in 
the parliamentary debates.^' To this discovery Dr. 
Francis replied, '* Then, sir, you have excelled Demos- 
thenes himself." 

Frederic. This is a very singular anecdote : it shows 
the wonderful facility of Johnson's mind. 

Mr, Allen, After struggling with adversity for many 
years, we at length, in 1747, see announced the de- 
sign of his great work, the ** Dictionary of the English 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 193 

Language/' For the preparation of this work the 
booksellers entered into an agreement to pay him the 
sum of fifteen hundred guineas. 

Edmund, It must have been a most laborious under- 
taking. 

Mr. Allen, It was so; and, though he had the assis- 
tance of several persons to copy for him, it occupied, 
in the whole, nearly six years. He says, that it was 
written *' not in the soft obscurities of retirement, 
nor under the shelter of academic bowers, but amidst 
inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and sorrow, 
and without the patronage of the great/' 

Sir Charles, It is indeed to be lamented that no 
better patronage was afforded to Dr. Johnson, than 
that of the booksellers. By his own exertions, how- 
ever, he found that he was now able to provide toler- 
ably well for the support of himself and his wife. 

Frederic, Some time after he had been engaged in 
the Dictionary, he commenced his admirable publication 
of the ^' Rambler."' This was a periodical work, issued 
at the rate of two numbers a week ; and for each num- 
ber he received two guineas, besides retaining a right to 
share in the profits of the work on a republication of 
it collectedly. 

Mr, Allen, Among numerous instances of the piety 
of Dr. Johnson, there was one connected with the 
publication of the Rambler. After he had formed a 
resolution to undertake a work that might be of use 
to mankind, and an honour to his country, he thought, 
Avith Milton, that this was not to be obtained *^ but by 
devout prayer to that Eternal Spirit, who can enrich 
with all utterance, and all knowledge, and send out 
his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar, to 
touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases." And 
it was not until he had invoked the especial protection 
of Heaven, and, by that act of piety, fortified his 
mind, that he began the work. It did not at first 
prove very successful, but Dr. Johnson lived to see the 
publication of a tenth edition of it. 
K 



194 GENERAL WRITERS. 

Edmund. The rapidity with which he wrote several 
papers of the Rambler was peculiarly remarkable. 
These were composed in haste, as the moment pressed, 
and, in some instances, he did not even read them 
over before they were printed. 

Mr. Allen. This may have been, and I dare say 
was true ; but it must not be forgotten, that Dr. John- 
son never took his pen in hand till he had well weighed 
the subject respecting which he was about to write; 
and had grasped, in his comprehensive mind, the senti- 
ments, the train of argument, and general arrangement 
of the whole. 

Sir Charles. It is also deserving of note, that, after 
tlie publication of the first edition, Johnson almost 
re-wrote the whole work; and that he corrected not 
only the second, but the third edition, to an extent 
perhaps never before known in the annals of litera- 
ture; by the introduction of more than six thousand 
alterations ! 

Edmund. I should much like to compare the ori- 
ginal with the subsequent editions, for the purpose of 
seeing the nature of these alterations. 

Mr. Allen. From the irritability of his constitution. 
Dr. Johnson had, at all times, an impatience and hurry 
when he either read or wrote. A certain apprehen- 
sion, arising from novelty, made him write his first 
exercise at college twice over ; but he never took that 
trouble with any other composition, and even most of 
his excellent works were written with peculiarly rapid 
exertion. 

Frederic. His biographer, Mr. Boswell, has stated, 
that he was known to have written six sheets of a 
translation from the French in one day, and to have 
composed forty-eight of the printed octavo pages of 
the Ufe of Savage at one sitting. 

Sir Charles. He did so; but, in the latter instance, 
it must be remarked that he sat up all night. 

Edmund. How laborious, and, on the whole, how 
little lucrative, appears to be the life of a man who 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. Wo 

ii compelled to earn his subsistence by the efforts of 
liis pen. 

3Ir, Allen. It is indeed. Even this great writer 
found it s6 ; for, a little while after he had completed 
his Dictionary, he was again in distress. He was 
arrested for a debt of five pounds eighteen shillings, 
and was obliged to write to Mr. Richardson, the 
author of Sir Charles Grandison, to borrow sufficient 
money to discharge it with. His poverty also com- 
pelled him to give up house-keeping, and retire to 
chambers, in Inner Temple-lane; where, we are told 
by his biographer, Mr. Murphy, he lived in poverty, 
total idleness, and the pride of literature. 

Lady Irwin, Broken down and dispirited, no doubt, 
by the miseries of his situation. 

Mr. Allen, It has been related, that Johnson's elegant 
and philosophical, but somewhat gloomy, fiction of ''Ras- 
selas," was wiitten for the purpose of obtaining sufficient 
money to defray tlie expenses of his mother's funeral, 
and discharge a few debts which she had unavoidably 
contracted. 

Sir Charles, It gladdens one's heart, however, to 
know that, not long after this, he was entirely freed from 
pecuniary embarrassment, by a pension from the crown 
of three hundred pounds a year. This induced him 
to leave his chambers, and once more become the 
master of a house, which he now took in Johnson's- 
court. Fleet-street. 

Frederic, But, sir, before you establish him in his 
new residence, allow me to state what I recollect con- 
cerning Mr. Boswell's account of Dr. Johnson's library, 
which was in two garrets, over his chambers in the 
Temple. He says, he there saw a great number of 
books*, but all very dusty and in great confusion. The 
floor was strewed with manuscript leaves, in Johnson's 
hand-writing. There was also an apparatus for chemical 
experiments, to which the doctor had, all his life, been 
\ ery partial. The place seemed favourable for retire- 
K 2 



196 GENERAL WRITERS. 

ment; and, wlieii he wanted to study without interrup- 
tion, he went up thither, and did not even mention it 
to his servant. 

Lady Irwin, I should much like to have seen this 
extraordinary man. 

Sir Charles, His personal appearance was very rude 
and uncouth. When young he is described to have 
been lean and lank, so that his immense structure 
of bones was hideously striking to the eye; and the 
scars of the scrofula, a disease with which he was 
much afflicted, were deeply visible. At this period 
he wore his own hair, which was straight and stiff, and 
separated behind; and he often had seemingly con- 
vulsive starts and odd gesticulations : but his conver- 
sation was so interesting that all these defects were 
forgotten. His disorder was thought, by some per- 
sons, to have been of the nature of that denominated 
St. Vitus's dance, others imagined it to have originated 
in habit. It, however, gave him so unpleasant an appear- 
ance, that he was often mistaken by strangers for an idiot. 

Frederic, A little girl, surprised by his extraordinary 
motions, one day said to him, " Pray, Dr. Johnson, 
why do you make such strange gestures T He good- 
naturedly replied, '' From bad habit; and do you, my 
dear, take care to guard against bad habits." 

Sir Charles. We are told that, in after life, while 
talking or musing, as he sat in his chair, he commonly 
held his head to one side, towards his right shoulder, 
and shook it in a tremulous manner; moving, at the 
same time, his body backward and forward, and rub- 
bing his left knee, in the same direction, with the palm 
of his hand. In the intervals of articulating he made 
various sounds with his mouth, sometimes as if rumi- 
nating, or what is called chewing the cud, sometimes 
giving a half-whistle, sometimes making his tongue to 
play backward from the roof of his mouth, as if cluck- 
ing like a hen, and sometimes protruding it against his 
upper gums in front ; generally, when he had concluded 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 197 

a period in the course of a dispute, by which time he was 
a good deal exhausted through violence and vociferation, 
he used to blow with his breath like a whale. This is 
supposed to have been a relief to his lungs, though it 
seemed a contemptuous mode of expression, as if he 
had wholly defeated the arguments of his oponents. 

Lady Irwin, I recollect to have read, that once, to 
show his politeness to a French lady, Madame de 
Boufflers, who went to see him at his chambers in 
the Temple, he attended her to her carriage, though 
dressed in a rusty brown coat, a pair of old shoes by 
way of slippers, a little shrivelled wig, sticking on the 
top of his head, and the sleeves of his shirt, and the 
knees of his breeches, hanging loose. 

Edmund, The account goes on to state, that a con- 
siderable crowd of people had gathered round her 
carriage, which had been stationed in Fleet-street, and 
were not a little surprised by his singular appearance. 

Lady Trtvin. Dr. Johnson was not always a very polite 
man in company. Even his biographerj Mr. Boswell, 
states many instances of what appear to have been 
direct rudenesses. 

Mr, Allen. It is very true, that with the exteriors of 
politeness he was not much acquainted. The melan- 
choly which had long been habitual in his constitution, 
had an effect on his temper, and rendered him ex- 
tremely impetuous and irritable. He had also great 
pride of science, and a fierce independent spirit, which 
inflamed him on some occasions beyond all bounds of 
moderation. 

Sir Charles. And yet he must have been a most 
interesting companion ; for he had a mind stored with 
a vast and various collection of learning and know- 
ledge. This he communicated with peculiar perspi- 
cuity and force, in rich and choice expression. He 
united a logical head with a fertile imagination, which 
gave him an extraordinary advantage in arguing. No 
man thought more profoundly, or with more acute 
discernment. A fallacy could not stand before him; 



198 GENERAL WRITERS, 

it was sure to be refuted by strength of reasoning, and 
by a precision, both in idea and expression, that were 
almost unequalled. 

Frederic. But it is said that he often chose the 
weaker side, and argued, not in favour^of what he knew 
to be the truth, but merely for victory. 

Sir Charles, This was certainly one of his failings. 
We are even told that a gentleman once thanked Dr. 
Rose of Chiswick, for having introduced him to Dr. 
Johnson, as he had been convinced by him, in the 
course of a long dispute, that an opinion which he had 
formerly embraced as a settled truth, was only a vulgar 
eiTor. " Nay," said Johnson, on this being mentioned 
to him, *' do not let your friend be thankful, for he was 
right, and I was wrong." 

But we are wandering somewhat too far from his 
history. It is time we should revert to it. 

Frederic, If you please. Shortly after the circum- 
stances of Johnson had been rendered independent by 
his pension, he endeavoured to enlarge his circle of 
literary acquaintance. This he did by founding a 
club, which was afterwards named the " Literary 
club f and which originally met at the Turk's Head 
ta^ ern, in Gerrard-street, every Tuesday evening. 

Sir Charles, In the year 1766, the constitution of 
Johnson seemed to be in a rapid decline ; and a mor- 
bid melancholy, which often clouded his understand- 
ing, came upon him with a deeper gloom than ever. 

Mr. Allen, In this situation, Mr. and Mrs. Thrale 
paid him a visit, and found him on his knees, with the 
Rev. Dr. Delap, beseeching God to continue to him 
the use of his understanding. Mr. Thrale kindly took 
him to his house at Streatham; and Johnson thence- 
forward became a constant resident in that family. 
An apartment was fitted up expressly for him, and the 
library was greatly enlarged. Whatever could be 
devised to promote his happiness, and establish his 
health, was studiously performed from that time, till 
the death of Mr. Thrale. 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. iOO 

Edmund, We are told that the fame of Johnson 
had excited the curiosity of the king. His majesty 
expressed a desire to see him; and, accordingly, the 
librarian at Buckingham House, invited Johnson to 
inspect that elegant collection of books ; at the same 
time, giving him a hint of what was intended. The 
king entered the room; and, among other things, asked 
Dr. Johnson, " if he meant to give the world any more 
of his compositions?" Johnson answered, ^'That he 
thought he had written enough." — *SAnd I should 
think so too," (replied his majesty) '^if you had not 
written so well." 

Mr. Allen, The remaining occurrences of his life 
may be related in few words. In the month of June, 
1783, he had a paralytic stroke. This was after the 
death of his friend, Mr. Thrale ; and when he resided 
at a house in Bolt-court, Fleet-street. In the win- 
ter of the same year, he was swelled, from head to 
foot with a dropsy ; and it was evident that the period 
of his dissolution could not be far distant. 

Lady Irwin. Had he not a great fear of death ? 

Mr. Allen. It is related that he had. Through his 
whole life he exhibited a fervent and unremitting 
piety, and at the same time great purity of heart; but, 
clouded as he was by melancholy, his religion also 
assumed a melancholy cast. This caused him, in 
several instances, towards the close of his life, to de- 
clare that the prospect of death was terrible. But at 
length the strength of religion entirely prevailed against 
the infirmity of nature ; and his foreboding dread of the 
Divine Justice, subsided into a pious trust, and hum- 
ble hope of mercy at the Throne of Grace. 

Frederic. Mr. Nichols, the highly respectable 
editor of the Gentleman's Magazine, has related some 
interesting circumstances relative to Dr. Johnson, 
which occurred in his presence. Whilst confined by 
his last illness, (he says) it was the regular practice of 
Dr. Johnson, to have the church service read to him, 



200 GENERAL WRITERS. 

by some attentive and friendly divine. The Rev. 
John Hoole performed this kind office, in the presence 
of Mr. Nichols, for the last time. By Dr. Johnson's de- 
sire, no more than the Litany was read ; and, in this, his 
responses were made in a deep and sonorous voice, and 
with the most profound devotion that can be imagined. 
His hearing not being quite perfect, he more than 
once interrupted Mr. Hoole with, '' Louder, my dear 
sir, louder, I entreat you, or you pray in vain !" 
When the service was ended, he, with great earnest- 
ness, turned to the mother of Mr. Hoole, who also 
v/as present, and said, *'I thank you, madam, very 
heartily, for your kindness in joining me in this solemn 
exercise. Live well, I conjure you; and you will 
not feel the compunction at last, which I now feel.'' 

Mr, Allen, So truly humble were the thoughts 
which this great and good man entertained of his own 
approaches to perfection. Every hour, that could be 
abstracted from his bodily pains and infirmities, was 
spent in prayer, and in the warmest ejaculations; and, 
in that pious, praise- worthy, and exemplary manner, 
he ^ closed a life, begun, continued, and ended^ in , 
virtue. 

Frederic, Not long after this, on the thirteenth of 
December, 1785, and in the seventy-fifth year of his 
age, Dr. Johnson closed his mortal career; and his 
remains were interred in Westminster Abbey. He 
left a few legacies; but the chief of his property, 
amounting fo about fifteen hundred pounds, he be- 
queathed to Francis Barber, a faithful black servant, 
who had long lived in his service. 

Sir Charles, The character of Dr. Johnson need not 
occupy our further attention ; and we have already 
spoken of his works, the Rambler, Idler, Dictionary, 
and Rasselas. Besides these, he wrote several political 
pamphlets in favour of the government, a " Journey to 
the Hebrides, or W^estern Islands of Scotland." — 

Frederic, Which h s been considered a model for 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 201 

such persons as shall hereafter relate their travels, as 
far as regards the important subjects of men, manners, 
modes of life, and the progress of civilization. 

Si7' Charles. He likewise wrote several sermons, 
which he gave to his friend, the Rev. Dr. John Taylor; 
and which were left at his death for publication : and 
some poetry, both Latin and English. But the most 
popular of all Dr. Johnson's writings, were his *' Lives 
of the Poets. '^ It is true that much fault has been 
found with his criticisms : in particular, it is said, 
that justice has not been done to Swift ; that Gay, and 
Prior, are undervalued; and Gray, harshly treated. 
This charge cannot perhaps be disputed ; yet, with all 
the defects they have been alleged to exhibit, they 
are indisputably the most masterly productions of the 
kind which our language can boast. His works have 
been published together, in twelve volumes in octavo, 
edited by Mr. Murphy. 

As a means of somewhat varying the discussions, 
and at the same time to employ the young gentlemen 
in composition, it was proposed by Mr. Allen, that, for 
the two ensuing evenings, the subjects for discussion 
should be turned into exercises; and that, in these, 
Frederic should have the precedence. On being asked 
what lives they would fix upon, Frederic chose that of 
Sir William Jones ; and Edmund, the life of Mr. 
Cumberland, the late dramatic writer. 



TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING. 

Frederic Montagu's Exercise. 

The party assembled at the usual hour. Frederic 
produced his exercise, and Sir Charles Irwin requested 
Jiim to read it. He rose, and thus began : 

'* I have selected as the subject of my exercise, tlie 
memoirs of Sir William Jones, one of the most 
k3 



t>02 GENERAL WRITERS. 

amiable men, and accomplished scholars, of his time, 
I am fully aware of my inability to do justice to his^ 
character, even with the advantages which I possess of 
having before me, several excellent memoirs of him ; 
particularly that by his biographer and friend, Lord 
Teignmouth. I hope, therefore, for the partiality of 
friends, to excuse such defects as may appear in the 
efforts I have made. 

" Sir William Jones was the only son of William 
Jones, Esq. an eminent mathematician, who resided 
in the island of Anglesea, North Wales ; but he was 
born in London, in the year 1746. His father did 
not long survive his birth ; and the care of his early 
years devolved upon his mother, whose talents and 
virtues eminently qualified her for so important a task. 
In the education of her son, she appears to have pre- 
ferred a method at once affectionate and judicious. 
Discovering in him a curiosity, and a thirst for knovr- 
ledge, beyond what children generally display, she 
made the gratification of these to depend upon his own 
industry. To his incessant importunities for informa- 
tion, on casual topics, which she watchfully stimulated, 
she always replied, *^ Read, and you will know;" a 
maxim to the observance of Avhich he invariably ac- 
knowledged himself indebted for his subsequent attain- 
ments. Her success was adequate to her efforts. In 
his fourth year, her pupil was able to read distinctly 
and rapidly any English book. She particularly 
attended to the cultivation of his memory, by making 
him repeat some of the popular passages of Shakspeare, 
and some of the best of Gay's Fables. 

** As soon as he had completed his seventh year, he 
was sent to the school at Harrow, then under the care 
of Dr. Thackeray. Here he applied with diligence to 
his prescribed tasks, but without indicating that supe- 
riority of talent which might have been expected from 
a person who afterwards rendered himself so eminent. 
During the vacations, his mother assiduously resumed 
her part of the task; and, among other acquirements, 



SIR WILLIAM JONES. 203 

he attained under her superintendence, tlie art ol 
drawing, in which she excelled. 

'* When at school he broke one of his thighs, and 
was obliged to be taken home for twelve months. The 
consequence was, that the course of his education was 
considerably interrupted; and, on his return to school, 
the greatest and most painful efforts were necessary to 
recover what he had lost. During a few months, 
however, he applied so closely, even in his leisure 
hours, that he again reached the head of his class, and 
gained every prize that was offered for the best exer- 
cise. He often amused himself with translating the 
writings of the Greek and Latin poets into English 
verse. So surprising were the powers of his memory, 
that he had no difficulty in recollecting almost every 
thing he had read. It has been stated that, on one 
occasion, his schoolfellows had proposed to act the 
play of the '* Tempest;" but that, having no copy at 
hand, he wrote it for them so correctly from memory, 
that they acted with as much reputation as they pro- 
bably could have derived from the best edition. Whilst 
he was at school, he wrote a dramatic piece, on the 
story of Meleager, which was acted by his school- 
fellows as a tragedy : some lines of this drama have 
been printed ; Avhich, as of juvenile composition, have 
great merit. 

** In the usual recreations of the boys at Harrow, 
Jones was not often a partaker; for the hours which 
were allotted for play, he generally devoted to im- 
provement 

*' An anecdote has been recorded at this period 
which strongly indicates the turn of his mind, and the 
impression which had been made upon it by his studies. 
He invented a political game, in which Dr. Bennet, 
subsequently Bishop of Cloyne, and the afterwards 
celebrated Grecian, Dr. Parr, were his principal asso- 
ciates. They divided the fields near Harrow according 
to the map of Greece, into states and kingdoms. Each 



204 GENERAL WKITERS. 

fixed upon one of tliese as his dominion, and assumed 
an ancient name. Some of the boys consented to be 
styled barbarians. They were to invade the territories 
of the others, and attack their hillocks, which were 
denominated fortresses. The chiefs vigorously defended 
their respective domains against the incursions of the 
enemy ; and, in these imitative wars, the young states- 
men held councils, made vehement harangues, and 
composed memorials; all perhaps very boyish, but 
calculated to fill their minds with ideas of legislation 
and government. In these amusements, Jones was 
invariably the leader. 

** It was customary with Dr. Thackeray, the master 
of Harrow school, who retired from the superin- 
tendence of it, when Jones was in his fifteenth year, 
never to applaud even the best compositions of his 
scholars ; from a notion that praise only tended to 
make tiiem vain or idle. But the opinion which he 
gave, in private, to the friends of Jones was, that '' he 
was a boy of so active a mind, that if he were left naked 
and friendless on Salisbury plain, he would, never- 
theless, find the road to fame and riches." 

^'His name was long afterwards remembered at 
Harrow, with the respect that was due to his superior 
talents and erudition. He was frequently quoted by 
the master who followed Dr. Thackeray, as the orna- 
ment of the school, and an example for imitation to all 
the remaining boys. During the time he was there, he 
not only distinguished himself by the extent of his 
classical attainments, and his poetical compositions, 
but by the eloquence of his declamations, and the 
masterly manner in which they were delivered. 

'' From Harrow he was sent, in his sixteenth year, 
to University College, Oxford. It was here that he 
began to indulge that passion for Oriental literature, in 
which he afterwards attained so much eminence. He 
acquired a perfect knowledge of the Hebrew, Arabic, 
and Persic languages; and, in his ardent thirst foj,^ 



SIR WILLIAM JONES. 205 

learning, studied with so little intermission, from either 
sleep or exercise, as considerably to injure both his 
sight and his health. 

*' The income of his mother was very small. As 
soon, therefore, as his education was completed, he 
was induced to accept the situation of tutor to Viscount 
Althorpe, (now Earl Spencer) that he might relieve her 
from the expense of his support. His own income was 
afterwards increased, by being elected a fellow of his 
college. 

'* Whilst he was resident with the Spencer family, 
Mr. Jones was induced, by desire of the King of Den- 
mark, to translate the life of Nadir Shah from an 
Eastern manuscript into the French language. He 
also wrote a Persian grammar, and began to prepare a 
dictionary of the Persian language, in which the prin-^ 
cipal words were illustrated from the most celebrated 
Eastern authors. But the latter work was not com- 
pleted, on account of the expense with which its compi- 
lation was attended. 

'' It appears that Mr. Jones had entertained some 
doubts relative to the evidences of the Christian reli- 
gion. The consequence was, a serious and attentive 
inquiry into the grounds of faith ; and the result, as the 
result always must be with an impartial mind, was a 
firm belief in the authenticity and inspiration of the 
Holy Scriptures. 

'' As a profession, which he was in future to pur- 
sue, Mr. Jones, about this time, began to study the 
law. Yet, as a relaxation for his leisure hours, he 
wrote several poems, which he printed in a small 
volume. He translated the life of Nadir Shah into 
English, and published some '^ Commentaries on 
Asiatic Poetry;" which he finished when only in 
his twenty-third year. In 1774, he was called to the 
bar; and, having remarked that the law was a science, 
which would admit of no participation with the Eastern 
muses, he, for some years, renounced them, with the 
most virtuous and determined inflexibility. Those 



206 GENERAL WRITERS. 

persons who consider the study of the law incompatible 
with a mind devoted to the acquisition of polite litera- 
ture, would imagine that Mr. Jones had to encounter 
almost insuperable difficulties. This, however, was 
not the case. He found in it nothing so dry or so 
laborious as not to be overcome by the same industry 
which had enabled him to vanquish, even in childhood, 
the difficulties that frequently deter men of mature 
years. He was stimulated by what appears to have 
predominated with him through life, an honest am- 
bition to rise to eminence in his profession. 

*' In the month of Marcb, 1783, he was appointed 
a judge of the supreme court of judicature at Fort 
William, in Bengal; a situation to which he had 
long anxiously looked forward. On this occasion he 
received the honour of knighthood : shortlv afterwards 
he was married to the eldest daughter of Dr. Shipley, 
Bishop of St. Asaph; and, in the same month, left his 
native country, to which he never returned. 

*' He arrived at Calcutta in September, and was 
eagerly welcomed by all those who were interested in 
the acquisition of a magistrate of probity and inde- 
pendence; of a scholar, who was professedly at the 
head of Oriental literature, and one, in the prime and 
vigour of life, who bade fair to be long the ornament 
of the British dominions in India. Sir William Jones 
had not been long in his new situation before he began 
to divide his time into such stated portions, that no 
objects, connected with duty or science, could interfere 
with each other. One of his first endeavours was, to 
institute at Calcutta, a society, afterwards denominated 
the Asiatic Literary Institution, the members of which 
might aid him in those scientific pursuits, which he 
foresaw would become infinitely too numerous, and too 
extended, for his individual labour. Of this society 
he was, unanimously, elected the president. 

** His Avhole time was now divided between the 
laborious duties of his public situation, and the ex- 
tension of Oriental knowledge ; and to these he attended 



SIR WILLIAM JONES. 207 

Mitli SO ardent an application, as to prove seriously 
injurious to his health. He now arranged the scheme 
of a great national work, a *' Digest of Hindu and 
Mahommedan Law," to be compiled by the most 
learned native lawyers of India, and to be accompanied 
by a literal version into English; and under the appro- 
bation of the Marquis of Cornwallis, then the gover- 
nor-general, he undertook the amazing labour of super- 
intendence and translation. *' This work (he has 
himself said) he considered a preliminary to the 
security which he hoped to see established among our 
Asiatic subjects." 

** After some time. Lady Jones, finding herself 
unable to endure the climate of India, was obliged to 
return to England. This she did in December, 1793. 
Sir William himself, proposed to set out in the course 
of a year and half, or two years, afterwards ; being 
anxiously desirous of previously completing the system 
of Indian laws, the arrangement of which he had 
begun. Lady Jones had not been four months on her 
voyage, when Sir William was seized with an inflam- 
mation in the liver, a complaint common in Bengal; 
wliich terminated fatally, a week afterwards, on the 
twenty-seventh of April, 1794. On the morning of 
that day, his attendants, alarmed at the evident symp- 
toms of approaching dissolution, sent for his friend, 
Lord Teignmouth. His lordship found him lying on 
the bed, in a posture of meditation, the only symptom 
of remaining life being a small degree of motion in 
the heart ; which, after a few seconds, ceased ; and he 
expired without a pang or groan. His bodily suffering, 
from the complacency of his features, and the ease of 
his attitude, could not have been severe ; and his mind 
must have derived consolation from those sources, 
whence he had been in the habit of seeking it, and 
whence alone, in our last moments, it can ever be 
found." 

Lady Irwin, I thank you, Erederic, for your account 
of one of the most amiable, upright, and learned of men. 



208 GEJNERAL WRITERS. 

Sir Charles. As a son, a husband, a friend, and a 
citizen, Sir William Jones fulfilled every duty in an 
exemplary manner. His erudition has been displayed 
in his various literary labours ; and scarcely any 
subject of human research escaped his notice. As a 
linguist, he has seldom been equalled: his list of lan- 
guages comprehends eight studied critically; eight 
studied less perfectly, but all intelligible with a dic- 
tionary; and tvi^elve studied less perfectly, but all 
attainable. As a poet he would, probably, have risen 
to the first class, had his ardour for transplanting 
foreign beauties allowed him leisure for the exercise of 
his own invention. 

Mr, Allen, But there is another trait in the cha- 
racter of Sir William Jones, and of more importance 
than all the rest. He was a sincere Christian. Of 
his religious opinions, the following note written in 
his Bible, is a pleasing testimony: '^I have carefully 
and regularly perused these Holy Scriptures ; and am 
of opinion that the volume, independently of its divine 
origin, contains more sublimity, purer morality, more 
important history, and finer strains of eloquence, than 
can be collected from all other books, in whatever lan- 
guage they may have been written,'' 

Sir Charles, When we recollect how large a portion 
of the time and study of Sir William Jones, was ap- 
plied to the acquirement of a knowledge of ancient 
history, and the habits and customs of eastern nations, 
we cannot but feel great satisfaction when we read his 
observations that, all his historical researches tended 
to confirm the Mosaic accounts of the primitive world ; 
and he says, '' Our testimony," (he writes in the name 
of the Asiatic Society) *' on that subject ought to have 
the greater weight; because, if the result of our obser- 
vations had been totally different, we should, never- 
theless, have published them : not indeed with equal 
pleasure, but with equal confidence ; for truth is 
mighty, and, whatsoever be its consequences, must 
alwayt' prevail,'' 



RK HARD CUMBERLAND. '200 

tWENTY-SEVENTH EVENING. 

Edmund Irwin's Exercise, 

'*The Author of the **West Indian," the *' Wheel of 
Fortune," the '* Jew," and several other comedies, was 
Richard Cumberland, the son of a clergyman, 
who had a living in Northamptonshire. His mother 
was a daughter of Dr. Bentley, the learned master of 
Trinity College, Cambridge ; and he was himself born 
in the master's lodge of that college, in the year 1732. 
'' When a child, he appeared to tnost persons to be 
dull of intellect. His mother, and his grandfather, 
were very strict with him, because they thought him 
capable of greater exei'tions than he chose to make. 
As soon as he had completed his sixth year, he was 
sent to school at Bury St. Edmund's. Here he was 
so careless, that he soon got to the very bottom of his 
class. But his idleness did not continue long. His 
master one day called him to his chair at the head of 
the school, and lectured him publicly, and very sharply ; 
the attention of all the boys being fixed upon him. 
Among other observations, the master asked him 
what report he could expect to be made of him to his 
grandfather Bentley; whom Bichard both loved and 
revered. He made no defence, but returned with 
shame to his seat, which was the lowest in the class, 
and that class the lowest but one in the school. He 
hid his face between his hands, resting his head on the 
desk before him, and cried bitterly. When he raised 
his eyes and looked round him, he thought he saw 
contempt in the countenances of all the boys. He 
resolved to be more studious for the future, and now 
took all the pains that his age would admit of, to 
regain his lost ground. His diligence was followed by 
success; and success encouraged him to fresh exer- 
tions. From this time, his task, instead of appearing 
a labour, was his delight. His natural faculties, which 



210 GENERAL WRITERS. 

were good, began to unfold themselves. He ro.^ 
rapidly to the head of his class; and the whole time 
he was in the upper school, he never once lost his 
place. Before he was thirteen years old, he was at 
the head of the school, was a good Greek and Latin 
scholar, and had even written several short English 
poems. 

His father now sent him to Westminster school, the 
master of which gave him great commendation for the 
excellent manner in which he passed his examination; 
and placed him in one of the higher classes. Here 
he advanced rapidly in classical knowledge, and parti- 
cularly in composition. But he was guilty of several 
blameable actions. Amongst others, he, on one occa- 
sion, left the Abbey, in the time of divine service, and 
joined several boys, for the purpose of insulting a 
congregation of Quakers at their devotions ; and he 
once imposed upon the master an exercise in Latin 
verse, whicn he had entirely stolen from a printed 
book. The master, after commending him for his 
composition, read the verses aloud to the senior boys, 
and was proceeding to renew his praise, when, stung 
with remorse for the disgraceful action, Cumberland 
honestly confessed he had stolen every syllable of it, 
and humbly entreated for pardon. The master paused 
a few moments, and replied, ** Child, I forgive you. 
Go to your seat, and say nothing of the matter. You 
have gained more credit with me by your honest con- 
fession, than you could have got by the verses, had they 
been your own." Next morning, to make all the 
amends he was able, Cumberland took great pains in 
the composition of another exercise, and gave it in 
imasked for. He also took care to tell the boys, who 
had heard him so unjustly commended, that he very 
sincerely repented of the deception lie had practised. 

'' When only in his fourteenth year, he was admitted 
at Trinity College, Cambridge. Here, though left 
almost wholly to his own direction, he led a regular 
and studious life. He read the works of poets, histo- 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND. 211 

nans, pliilosophers, in short, nearly every thing that 
rame in his way, with iiidiscriminating avidity ; but 
he almost wholly neglected those subjects which would 
be most important to him at the examination on taking 
his degree. This was the case during his two first 
years. In his third year, Dr. Smith, then the master 
of the college, recommended that he should lose no 
time in preparing for this examination; and he set 
about the work with so much diligence, as, in a great 
degree, to endanger his health. He allowed himself . 
only six hours sleep, and lived chiefly on milk. He 
now gave his almost exclusive attention to the study of 
Euclid, mathematics, hydrostatics, optics, and astro- 
nomy, and those other branches of physical science, 
a knowledge of which were requisite for the purpose 
he had in view. In consequence of this close applica- 
tion, late as he began, he attained a distinguished rank 
among the honours of the university. 

"As soon as he had taken his degree, his views 
were directed towards the clerical profession, to which 
he was led by his own natural disposition, as well as 
by the example of several of his ancestors. These ^ 
however, were frustrated, by an offer from Lord 
Halifax, then President of the Board of Trade, 
to make him his private secretary. The situation 
wa^ too flattering to be refused; though, long before 
the end of his career, he looked back with regret on 
the choice he had made. His friends now anticipated 
for him nothing but prosperity and eminence. He 
soon, however, began to feel that his situation was fax- 
from an independent one ; and, though it was such as 
to afford him ample leisure for literary pursuits, it was 
by no means suited to the natural turn of his disposi- 
tion. Under such feelings, it was only by the persua- 
sion of friends that he could be induced to continue in 
it. During his leisure hours he read and wrote inces- 
santly ; and, as he has stated, lived in all the tempe- 
rance, and nearly all the retirenlent of a hermit. 

" Lord Halifax resiained his situation at the Board 



'212 GENERAL WRITERS. 

of Trade, and Mr. Cumberland, through the interest 
of that nobleman, obtained a small establishment, as 
crown agent for the province of Nova Scotia. Shortly 
after this, he married a Miss Ridge, of Kilmiston, in 
, Hampshire, a young lady of great worth and beauty^ 
with whom he lived affectionately and happily. 

'* On the accession of his present majesty to the 
throne. Lord Halifax was appointed Lord Lieutenant 
of Ireland, and Mr. Cumberland accompanied him to 
that country, as one of his secretaries. His residence 
was in Dublin castle : but he soon found that this situ- 
ation was neither a pleasant nor a profitable one. 
Whilst in Dublin, he had the offer of a baronetcy. 
This he had the fortitude to refuse, and had reason 
to think that this refusal contributed to weaken his 
interest with Lord Halifax. Some time afterwards, 
when his lordship was appointed one of the Secre- 
taries of State, the only situation which Mr. Cum- 
berland could obtain, was that of Clerk of Reports 
of the Board of Excise ; and even this was given to 
him through the interest of Lord Hillsborough. He 
was, however, subsequently promoted to the office of 
Secretary to the Board of Trade. 

*' Mr. Cumberland, about this time, wrote an opera 
called the "Summer's Tale," and two comedies, the 
^'Brothers,'' and the "West Indian." His comedies, 
particularly the latter, were acted with great success. 
He afterwards wrote several other comedies, and some 
tragedies. 

" An event occurred about this time, which proved 
his disinterested generosity, and high sense of honour. 
An old clergyman, whose name was Reynolds ^ a first 
cousin of his father, and not personally known to Mr. 
Cumberland, had made his will, and by it, had be- 
queathed to him nearly his whole property. He came 
to London, and, intmducing himself, begged Mr. Cum- 
beiiand would accompany him to a conveyancer, that 
a deed of gift might be made to him of this property. 
After the clergyman had explained his reasons for 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND. 213 

SO doing, Mr. Cumberland assented; but positively 
required, tbat a clause should be inserted in the 
deed, enabling Mr. Reynolds to revoke it whenever he 
might think proper to do so. Tliis clause was inserted, 
and about ten years afterwards, the revocation actually 
took place : a nephew of Mr. Reynolds brought his 
order for delivering up the conveyance, and this was 
done without the slightest hesitation. 

^* In the year 1780, Mr. Cumberland was employed 
on a confidential mission to negociate a peace with the 
court of Madrid. This engagement, though in itself 
highly honourable, laid the foundation of all his future 
distresses, and seems to have embittered almost every 
remaining hour of his life. The project failed ; and he, 
by no means, received that treatment from his employers, 
to which he appears to have been entitled. The pro- 
mises made to him before he set out, he has stated, 
were not fulfilled. His bills upon his bankers Avere 
refused payment by the treasury. In consequence of 
this he was arrested at Bayonne on his way home, 
whilst labouring under the violence of a fever. He 
had contracted a debt of nearly five thousand pounds, 
in the service of his country, and w^as under the ne- 
cessity of selling every acre of his hereditary estate to 
pay it. All the applications that he made for remune^ 
ration and redress, were received with coldness, and 
treated with neglect. 

'* Mr. Cumberland, not long afterwards, retired 
from the public service, on a diminished income. Re- 
duced, by these afflicting events, into straitened cir- 
cumstances, he put his family on a corresponding 
establishment, and went to reside at Tunbridge Wells. 
Here he devoted his time, as formerly, to his books 
and his pen. He pubhshed a work in two volumes, 
entitled, '' Anecdotes of Eminent Painters in Spain;'- 
and, sometime afterwards, the '' Observer," a collection 
of original essays on various topics, favourable to relir 
gion, morals, and literature. It would occupy too 
much of the present time to speak of all his literal y 



214 GENERAL WRITERS. 

productions, which were of very various description. 
As many as thirty-five dramatic pieces have been enu- 
merated; two epic poems; three novels; a tract on 
divinity, entitled, '* A few plain Reasons for Believing 
in the Evidences of the Christian Religion;" and '' Me- 
moirs of his own Life." 

" Towards the latter part of his life, Mr. Cumber- 
land sustained a great variety of afflictions. The loss 
of his wife, the bad health of his favourite daughter, 
the failure of his literary pursuits, and the consequent 
pecuniary difficulties with which he had to struggle — 
all these bore heavily on his mind, and occasioned 
many a pang. Yet he sustained his afflictions with 
patience, and was often cheerful amidst them all. For 
many years previously to his decease, he was in the 
habit of composing an appropriate prayer of thanks- 
giving for the last day in the year, and of supplication 
for the first day of the succeeding year. He survived 
to an old age, and died, after a sudden and short illness, 
on the seventh of May, 1811, and iij his eightieth year. 

^* It was Mr. Cumberland's misfortune to have been 
bred a courtier, whilst he possessed abilities which 
ill adapted him for political pursuits. When in a sub- 
ordinate station, and his duties were definite and for- 
mal, he duly performed them; but, when he had to 
assume the character of a minister, he seems to have 
failed ; and the consequence was, neglect on the part of 
his employers, and embarrassment to himself." 



POETS. 



TWENTY-EIGHTH EVENING. 

Miss Irwin had returned from a visit in the neigh- 
bourhood of London; and, this evening, for the first 
time, had an opportunity, which, in consequence of 
her brother's numerous letters on the subject, she 
liad long desired, of being admitted to join in the bio- 
graphical discussions. 

On the life of Shakspeare being proposed, Mr. 
Allen considered the opportunity a good one for him 
to introduce a short account of the origin and the 
nature of poetry. He adopted the definition of Blair, 
that poetry was " the language of passion, or of en- 
livened imagination, formed, most commonly, into 
regular number," though, he stated, that such numbers 
were not absolutely necessary to it. He spoke of its 
antiquity; remarked that music and poetry are gene- 
rally believed to have had the same origin, and to 
have been prompted by the same occasions; and that 
the first poets sang their own verses, whence he de- 
duced the origin of versification. He briefly detailed 
the history of poetry among the ancients ; particularly 
dwelt upon that of the Holy Scriptures, and directed 
the notice of the young persons to numerous poetical 
beauties in the Old Testament, particularly in the 
Psalms, and the books of Job and Isaiah. After this 
he spoke of the poetry of the Greeks and Romans, 
and, apologizing for his digression, passed to that 
of our own country. He described its origin and 
progress, from the earliest periods of English lite- 
rature to the present, and cited numerous examples in 
illustration of the different kinds. 



216 POETS. 

Pastoral poetry, or such as was employed in the 
celebration of rural scenes and objects, he described 
as the most simple and natural of any ; but he com- 
bated the notion of some writers that it was, on 
this account, to be considered the earliest form of 
poetical composition. The first poetry, he said, was 
doubtless inspired by events and objects of unusual 
occurrence, such as roused the passions of men, or at 
least awakened their wonder and admiration. Of this 
description he considered the actions and the achieve- 
ments of their heroes, their own exploits in war, the 
successes or misfortunes of their countrymen and 
friends. These he conceived had furnished the first 
themes to the bards of every country. 

He next mentioned Lyric poetry, or such as, by the 
various measure of versification, was adapted to accom- 
panyment with a lyre or other musical instrument ; and 
remarked, that this was probably the form under which 
at least, many of the ancient bards poured forth their 
enthusiastic strains. Of Descriptive poetry, he ob- 
served, that as its great merit consists in the excellence 
of picturesque description, and as a delineation of 
natural objects comes within the reach of every one's 
abilities, so this species of poetry is frequently at- 
tempted by second-rate geniuses. He spoke of Thom- 
son's Seasons, as a descriptive poem, but one of gi^eat 
merit, and pointed out several passages in it of pecu- 
liar excellence. Didactic poetry he defined to be such 
as is intended to convey knowledge and instruction ; 
and remarked, that it differed only in form, and not in 
scope and substance, from a philosophical, moral, or 
critical treatise in prose. Of this kind he instanced 
the poem of Lucretius on the Nature of Things, the 
Georgics of Virgil, and Pope's Essay on Criticism. 
He next adverted to Epic poetry, or a recital of illus- 
trious enterprises, in a poetical form ; stated, that of all 
the species of poetry, it was the most dignified, and, at the 
same time, the most difficult of execution. The instances 
of this which he described and illustrated were, the 
Iliad of Homer, the ^neid of Virgil, and Telemachu.^. 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 217 

The last kind that remained to be mentioned was 
Dramatic poetry, which, he reminded them, was so 
called from a Greek word, signifying to act; be- 
cause, in this, the action is not recited, as in epic 
poetry, but is itself shown in those by whom it is 
represented. Mr. Allen then reverted to Shak- 
SPEARE, as indisputably at the head of the English 
dramatic poets. He said, that when we consider the 
period in which Shakspeare flourished, his having been 
born as early as the year 1564, and the disadvantages 
under which he laboured, he must certainly have been 
one of the most extraordinary men which this country 
ever produced. 

Miss Irwin was desirous of knowing something 
respecting the parentage of Shakspeare. Frederic 
replied, that his father had been a dealer in wool, at 
Stratford-upon-Avon, in Warwickshire, where this 
son William, our dramatic poet, and nine other chil- 
dren were bom. 

Louisa, Where was he educated, Edmund ? 

Frederic, He was sent to the free-school at Strat- 
ford. Here he acquired a smattering of Latin; but 
he was soon taken away, to be employed in his father's 
business. This of course deprived him of all further 
advantage from scholastic instruction; and, as he in- 
tended to settle in that business, he married when little 
more than eighteen years of age. His wife was Anne 
Hathaway, the daughter of a substantial yeoman, who 
lived near Stratford. 

Mr. Allen, In almost every instance, particularly 
among the middle and lower classes of mankind, such 
early marriages are very injurious. At a time when 
the individuals married are scarcely able to conduct 
themselves without guidance, they have, in such case, 
to superintend and conduct the affairs of a family. This 
also often becomes a burden, that weighs them down, 
and overcomes their best exertions. 

Frederic, Of the domestic economy of Shakspeare, 
or even the mode of his subsistence, we have no infor- 
L 



218 POETS. 

mation ; but it would seem that botli were in a coii- 
siderable degree neglected, by his falling into bad 
company. 

Edmund, He associated with a gang of deer- 
stealers. 

Sir Charles. And, as nearly all depredators sooner 
or later are, was detected and disgraced. He was 
caught in the act of robbing the park of Sir Thomas 
Lucy, of Charlecot, near Stratford, but contrived to 
make his escape, leave his family and his business, 
and seek for shelter in London. 

Louisa. How old was he then, sir ? 

Sir Charles, About twenty-two. 

Edmund, By means, no doubt, of his countryman, 
Thomas Green, who, at this time, was a celebrated 
comedian, Shakspeare was introduced to the play- 
house, where, it is said, his necessities compelled him 
to accept of the office of call-boy, or prompter's atten- 
dant. 

Louisa, Was this at Drury-lane, or Covent-garden ? 

Edmund, At neither, sister, but at a house called 
the Globe, by the Bank-side, in Southwark. Neither 
the Drury-lane nor the Covent-garden theatres were 
then in existence. 

Sir Charles, It must be remarked, that plays were, 
at this time, performed in the afternoon, not in the 
evening, as at present: that coaches were then very 
little in use; and that those persons who were too 
proud, too tender, or too idle to walk, rode on horse- 
back to any distant business or diversion. Many, con- 
sequently, went on horseback to the play. 

Frederic, And there were persons always in waiting 
to hold their horses. It is said that, when Shakspeare 
went to London, one of his first expedients for sup- 
port, was to hold horses at the play-house. In this 
office he became so conspicuous, for his care and readi- 
ness, that, in a short time, almost every man, as he 
alighted, called for Will Shakspeare ; and scarcely any 
other waiter was trusted with a horse, while he oould 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 219 

be had. Sliakspeare, finding more horses put into his 
hands than he could hold, hired boys to wait under his 
inspection, who, when he was summoned, were imme- 
diately to present themselves, and say, ** I am Shak- 
speare's boy, sir." And, as long as the practice of 
riding to the playhouse continued, the waiters, who 
held the horses, retained the appellation of *' Shak- 
speare's boys." 

Mr, Allen, This story was first related by Pope; 
and was communicated to him by Mr. Rowe, who did 
not tliink it deserving of a place in the life of Shak- 
speare that he wrote. And the inquiries of subsequent 
writers have caused it, I think, to be generally rejected. 
Whether, however, Shakspeare was thus employed on 
the outside of the theatre or not, it is certain, that, 
after a little while, he obtained employment as an 
actor within. 

Frederic, He did sir; but this is said to have been 
at first in a very inferior line. The character in which 
he appeared to greatest advantage was that of the 
Ghost, in his own tragedy of '' Hamlet." 

Edmund. It was not as an actor that he distin- 
guished himself; but no one will deny his merit as a 
dramatic writer. We are even told that Queen Eliza- 
beth was so much delighted with his plays, that she 
had several of them acted before her ; that the Earl of 
Southampton presented him with a purse containing a 
thousand guineas ; and that King James the First wrote 
him a complimentary letter in his own hand. 

Mr, Allen, All these circumstances prove how highly 
our admirable dramatist was esteemed even during his 
life. 

Edmund, In the course of a few years, he acquired 
considerable property, and obtained a share in the 
theatre. His whole annual income is supposed to have 
been now equal to a thousand or twelve hundred pounds 
of present money. He at length retired from the stage ; 
and having purchased a house at Stratford, chiefly 
resided there during the remainder of his days. 
l2 



220 POETS. 

Frederic, The habits of life of Shakspeaie were 
now very different from those of his youth. He was 
peculiarly esteemed for his gentle and amiable dis- 
position, his great flow of wit, and as a most agreeable 
companion. 

Mr. Allen, It is to be lamented that so few anec- 
dotes should have been recorded of him. The va- 
rious incidents in the life of a man who commenced 
the world so ill; who laboured under so many disad- 
vantages; by his talents raised himself to such emi- 
nence, and at last rendered himself so estimable, both 
in public and in private life, as Shakspeare did ; must, 
if properly recorded, have been both amusing and 
instructive. 

Edmund, He died on his birth-day, the twenty- 
third of April, 1616, when he had completed his fifty- 
second year; and was buried on the north side of the 
chancel of the great church at Stratford. 

About a hundred and twenty years after his death, a 
noble monument was erected to his memory in West- 
minster Abbey. 

Sir Charles, Dr. Johnson has given to the world an 
admirable essay on the merits of his writings. 

Edmund, I think I can recollect some of the prin- 
cipal points of it. He says, that Shakspeare was, 
above all writers, the poet of nature; the poet, that 
holds out to his readers a faithful mirror of manners 
and of life. He had no example before him of suffi- 
cient fame, to force him on imitation. He therefore in- 
dulged his natural disposition ; and this disposition led 
him to comedy. In tragedy he often writes with great 
appearance of toil and study ; but, in his comic scenes, 
he seems, to produce without labour, what no labour 
can improve. In tragedy he is always struggling after 
some occasion to be comic; but in comedy he seems 
to repose, or to luxuriate, as in a mode of thinking 
congenial to his nature. In his tragic scenes there is 
always something wanting; but his comedy often sur- 
passes expectation or desire. Ilis comedy pleases by 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARK. 221 

the tbouglits and the language ; and his tragedy chiefly 
by incident and action. His tragedy seems to be skill ; 
his comedy to be instinct. There is one great defect 
in the writings of Shakspeare : he is always ready to 
sacrifice virtue to convenience; and is so much more 
careful to please than to instruct, that he seems to 
write without any moral purpose. He makes no jUst 
distribution of good or evil, nor is always careful to 
show in the virtuous a disapprobation of the wicked. 
He carries his persons indifferently through right and 
wrong; and at the end dismisses them without further 
care, and leaves their examples to operate by chance. 
There is also, in many parts, a coarseness of sentiment 
and language, which are utterly repugnant to any 
notions of delicacy. The plots of his plays are often 
carelessly formed. He has little regard to the dis- 
tinction of time or place; but gives to one age or 
nation, without scruple, the customs, institutions, and 
opinions of another, at the expense not only of likeli- 
hood, but of possibility. A quibble is to Shakspeare, 
what a luminous vapour is to a traveller. He follows 
it at all adventures ; it is sure to lead him out of his 
way, and sure to engulf him in the mire. Whatever 
be the dignity or the profundity of his disquisition, 
whether he be enlarging knowledge, or exalting affec- 
tion ; whether he be amusing attention with incidents, 
or enchaining it in suspense ; let but a quibble spring 
up before him, and he leaves his work unfinished. 
This always gave him such delight that he was content 
to purchase it by the sacrifice of reason, propriety, and 
truth. The plots of his plays, whether historical or 
fabulous, are always crowded with incidents; and such 
is the power of the marvellous, even over the minds 
of those who despise it, that every man finds his mind 
more strongly seized by the tragedies of Shakspeare, 
than those of any other writer. Others please us by 
particular speeches ; but he always makes us anxious 
for the event, and has, perhaps, excelled all but Homer, 



222 POETS. 

in securing the first purpose of a writer, by exciting 
restless and unquenchable curiosity, 

Louisa. How many plays did Shakspeare write ? 

Edmund, Thirty-six have usually been ascribed to 
him. These comprise several comedies, tragedies, 
and historical plays. The plots of the latter are taken 
chiefly from incidents in the English history. 

Louisa, I have heard much about the mulberry-tree 
of Shakspeare. You have omitted all account of it. 

Edmund, It was not a very material event in his 
history, but I will relate to you the circumstances 
relative to it. In the garden of his house at Stratford, 
Shakspeare planted a mulberry-tree. This house, about 
the year 1752, was sold to a clergyman of the name of 
Gastrell, a man of large fortune; who resided in it a 
few years, and, on account of a quarrel that he had 
with the magistrates of Stratford, concerning the 
poor's rates, peevishly declared that it should never 
be assessed again; and soon afterwards pulled it to the 
ground, sold the materials, and left the town. 

Louisa, Such conduct was ilhberal enough — but 
concerning the tree ? 

Edmund, Mr. Gastrell had some time before, cut 
that down, to save himself the trouble of showing it to 
those persons, whose admiration of Shakspeare had 
led them to visit the ground on which it stood. 

Louisa. That was still more illiberal. What became 
of it afterwards ? 

Edmund. The wood of which it was composed be- 
came valuable. It was made into snuff-boxes, trinkets, 
and various kinds of ornamental articles, which bore a 
high price in consequence of the general respect in 
which Shakspeare was held. 

Frederic. How very different were both the cha- 
racter and conduct of Shakspeare, from those of his 
dramatic contemporary, Ben Jon son. Though they 
both were men of great talent, Jonson was infinitely the 



BEN JONSON. 223 

inferior. He was born in 1754 ; and was, conse- 
quently, ten years younger than Shakspeare. 

Louisa, In what station of life was his father ? 

Frederic, He was a clergyman, who, in the reign of 
Queen Mary, had lost his estate, probably on account 
of his religion. Jonson was born, about a month after 
the death of his father, in a small street near Charing- 
cross, Westminster. 

Louisa, Was his education as much confined as that 
of Shakspeare had been. 

Frederic. Not quite. His mother first placed him 
in a private seminary, and afterwards sent him to 
Westminster school. 

Sir Charles, But he does not seem to have continued 
there long. 

Frederic, On accoimt of her straitened circum- 
stances, his mother thought fit to marry, for her se- 
cond husband, a bricklayer. After this, it was con- 
sidered requisite that Benjamin should be taken from 
school, though he had made considerable progress in 
classical learning, and should be taught his step- 
father's busmess. 

Louisa, What, and become a bricklayer? 

Frederic, Just so; and, for some time, he worked 
at that business. Part of the garden wall of Lincoln's 
Inn was actually built by him ; w orking, as it has been 
stated, with a trowel in his hand, and a Horace in his 
pocket One of the barristers, happening to walk 
near the place where Jonson was at work, heard him 
repeat some Greek verses. He consequently spoke to 
him, and, finding his proficiency in learning to have 
been very great, prevailed with some other gentlemen 
to join him in sending him as a student to Trinity 
College, Cambridge. 

Louisa, I am rejoiced to hear that a man of his 
talents and acquirements, should, thus early, have been 
enabled to free himself from the trammels of a me- 
chanical employment. 

Frederic, He did not long continue in Cambridge; 



224 POETS* 

for, his finances proving insufficient, he was compelled 
by poverty to withdraw himself from the university. 
He now enlisted as a private soldier, and served with 
the English army, against the Spaniards, in the Nether- 
lands. 

Louisa, That was worse than before. 

Frederic, In this situation he acquired a character 
for bravery. It is related, that he encountered one of 
the enemy's soldiers, slew him, and carried off the 
spoils, in view of both the armies. When he returned 
to England, he was once again enabled, though by what 
means we are not informed, to resume his studies, 
and to become a member of St. John's College, Cam- 
bridge. 

Mr, Allen. This persevering love of literature, amidst 
so many difficulties, is deserving of the highest com- 
mendation. 

Frederic, It is so, sir : and one cannot but sin- 
cerely pity the misfortunes of his youth ; for he was 
again compelled by poverty to quit the university. 

Louisa, What next befel him ? 

Frederic, Having thus failed in his literary pursuits, 
and, disliking to return to his former employment of a 
bricklayer, he obtained admission, as an actor, at an 
obscure theatre, near Shoreditch, called the Green 
Curtain. And he had not long been there before he 
was induced to write some pieces for the stage. At 
this period, however, he was unsuccessful both as an 
author, and an actor. 

Sir Charles, One of his contemporaries has censured 
his acting as mean and awkward ; and has asserted that 
his temper was rough and untractable. 

Frederic, His disposition certainly was not at any 
time good; but his disappointments, and the various 
difficulties he had been compelled to encounter in hfe, 
must have greatly tended to sour it. 

Edmund, He quarrelled with every body. He killed 
one of the players in a duel. For this he was seized, 
thrown into prison, and, as he has himself said, was 



BEN JONSON. 225 

** brought near to the gallows." He however was, 
afterwards, pardoned. 

Mr. Allen, Jonson was constantly changing his 
views. While in prison, he was prevailed with to 
become a Roman Catholic; and in this faith he con- 
tinued about twelve years, when he again became a 
Protestant. 

Frederic. As soon as he was released from prison, 
he married; and his wife, to use his own expression, 
*' was a shrew." 

Lady Irwin. It could not have been very prudent in 
him to marry, and thus have a family to support, when 
he liad scarcely the means of supporting himself. 
After what 3 ou have said, he could not expect any 
success as an actor. 

Frederic. In defiance, how^ever, of all discourage- 
ments, he endeavoured to provide for his family by 
the exertions of his pen. And having w ritten a play, 
which was accidentally shown to Shakspeare, that 
good-natured poet was induced to have it acted at the 
Globe theatre, of which he was then the manager, and 
even to perform a part in it himself. 

Mr. Allen. Is it known what play this was? 

Frederic. No; but its success was such as to en- 
courage Jonson to write his excellent comedy of 
'' Every Man in his Humour,'^ which w^as acted on 
the same stage in 1598. 

Louisa. How old was Jonson at this time ? 

Frederic. Not much more than twenty-four; not- 
Avithstanding which, we are informed that he, thence- 
forward, furnished a new play every year, until the 
reign of James the First. He then appears to have 
had a permanent engagement, in the preparation of 
mask^, and other similar entertainments, which were 
fashionable at court. His associate in these was the 
famous architect, Inigo Jones, who contrived the 
scenery and devices. In this employment Jonson was 
more or less occupied during the remainder of his life, 
nearly thirty years. 

L 3 



226 POETS. 

Louisa. How grateful ought he to have been for 
the kindness and liberality of Shakspeare, who had 
been thus instrumental in raising him from poverty, 
and promoting his successful establishment in the 
world ! 

Frederic. I am not aware that grafitude was a virtue 
in any estimation with Jonson. It is true that, after 
the death of Shakspeare, he writes, " To the Memory 
of his beloved Mr. William Shakspeare ;" but this was 
at a period when Shakspeare was beyond the reach of 
envy ; and there are many proofs of the jealousy and 
ill-nature of Jonson towards him during his life. 

Sir Charles. Was he not once involved in consider- 
able difficulty by an act of ingratitude towards his 
patron, James the First ? 

Frederic. I know not, sir, whether to call it ingrati- 
tude, or imprudence. But, in conjunction with two 
persons, whose names were Marston and Chapman, 
Jonson wrote a comedy called, '' Eastward Hoe," in 
which he chose to ridicule the Scots people. James, 
being himself a Scotsman, considered the insult as 
personal, and caused all three to be committed to 
prison. 

Edmund. And they would all have had their ears cut 
off, and been placed in the pillory, had not great in- 
terest been made with the king for their pardon. Jon- 
son, however, afterwards conciliated his sovereign, by 
taxing his genius for a double portion of that adulation 
in which James so much delighted. 

Louisa. How was Jonson chiefly supported at this 
time ? 

Frederic. Besides the profits accruing from his 
dramatic pieces, he had a salary from the crown; a 
pension from the city of London; and pensions from 
several noblemen and other persons, who had either 
been flattered by his verses, or were fearful of suffering 
by his satire. 

Edmund. But he was a man of such irregular and 
dissipated habits, that he was continually plunged in ex- 



BEN JONSON. 2*27 

peiises greater than he could afford; and thus always 
kept poor. He sometmies drank to excess. We are 
told that Sir Walter Raleigh had engaged him as a 
private tutor to his son ; but that the young gentleman 
did not much like the rigorous treatment which he 
experienced, and determined, if possible, to rid himself 
of him. He soon discovered Jonson's propensity to 
drinking, a propensity which he knew Sir Walter 
detested. One night Jonson came home intoxicated, 
and fell asleep. The youth took advantage of this. 
He ordered a large basket to \)e brought, and having, 
by the assistance of two men, laid Ben in it, they, 
with a pole, carried him, between them, to Sir Walter, 
with a message, that their young master, '^ had sent 
home his tutor." The consequence, no doubt, was his 
dismissal from the family. 

Lady Irwin, As he very justly deserved. When 
you spoke of the difficulties that Jonson encountered 
at the beginning of his life, and the anxiety which he 
showed for the advantages of a good education, 1 was 
inclined to pity him; but his subsequent conduct de- 
prives me of all commiseration for a man, whose 
inconveniences and sufferings were so entirely brought 
upon himself. 

Frederic, Towards the latter part of his life, the 
poverty of Jonson induced him to write begging poems 
to several persons of distinction. In a letter to the 
Earl of Newcastle, he says, '' I am not so imprudent 
as to borrow any sum of your lordship, for I have no 
faculty to pay ; but my needs are such and so urging, 
as I do beg what your bounty can give me, in the 
name of good letters, and the bond of an ever-grateful 
and acknowledging servant to your honour." This 
letter appears to have been written about four years 
before his death. 

Edmund, Previously to that time he had suffered 
by a paralytic attack : and of this complaint he died, 
on the sixteenth of August, 1637, in the sixty-third 
year of his age. 



228 POETS. 

Mr, Allen, In his last illness Jonson was often 
visited by the Rev. Dr. Duppa, afterwards Bishop 
of Winchester, who says, that he became penitent, 
and expressed great sorrow for having profaned the 
Scriptures in his plays. Jonson certainly had a sense 
of religion; and his offences against morals and piety 
are by no means so numerous as in the writings of 
many of his contemporaries. 

Lady Irwin, Where was he buried? 

Frederic, In Westminster Abbey, at the north-west 
end, near the belfry; and over his grave a common 
pavement-stone was laid, with no more than this in- 
scription, ^' O rare Ben Jonson!" A monument, how- 
ever, was afterwards erected to his memory, by Dr. 
Duppa. 

Mr, Allen, The works of Jonson were not, in 
general, produced without great labour and study; 
and even all his verses are said to have been first 
written in prose. His comedy, however, of '' Volpone; 
or, the Fox," which is considered one of his best 
pieces, is said to have been finished in the short space 
of three weeks. He wrote some tragedies, but these 
are extremely laboured. That of '' Cataline," is de- 
scribed, by Dr. Hurd, to be a specimen of all the 
errors of tragedy. His best pieces are his comedies 
of '' Every Man in his Humour," '' Volpone," the 
" Alchemist," and the '' Silent Woman." He wrote, 
in the whole, about fifty dramas of different kinds, 
though few of them would at present bear exhibition 
on the stage ; and was the author of several poems. 
His works w ere published together, in 1756, in seven 
volumes, in octavo. 



JOHN MILTON. 229 



TWENTY-NINTH EVENING. 

Louisa, You have spoken of Sbakspeare and Jon- 
son; but, of all the early English poets, few are 
greater favourites with me than the author of '' Para- 
dise Lost/' I have read that poem more than once, 
and with so much delight, that I have been induced to 
search into the particulars relative to the life of its 
author. May I be permitted the privilege of inti-o- 
ducing it into conversation this evening? 

Sii' Charles, I am sure, my dear Louisa, that neither 
your brother, nor Frederic, will be disinclined to allow 
you tliis privilege, as you term it. 

They each immediately declared their assent; and 
requested of her the favour to begin. 

Louisa. If I commit any errors, I confidently look 
for your kindness to correct me. John Milton 
Avas descended from a respectable family, which had 
long been settled at Milton, near Thame, in Oxford- 
shire. His grandfather was so zealous a Papist, that 
his father was disinherited for having adopted the 
Protestant faith, and was obliged to seek for support 
from the practice of the law. Milton was born in 
Bread-street, London, in the year 1608. He was 
educated first by a private tutor in his father's house, 
and afterwards at St. PauFs school. Such were his 
talents, and so great was his industry, that his progress 
in learning far exceeded that of the generality of boys. 

Frederic, T have read, that, from the time when 
Milton was tw elve years of age, he often passed the 
greater part of the night in study ; and that this intense 
application brought on violent pains in his head, and a 
peculiar w eakness of sight. 

Louisa, From St. Paul's he was sent to Christ's 
College, Cambridge, where he soon distinguished 
himself by the superiority of his attainments. He 
became master not only of the Latin, Greek, He])rew, 



231) POETS. 

Chaldee, and Syriac languages ; but also of nearly all 
the modern languages of Europe ; particularly Italian, 
which he wrote with peculiar elegance. 

Sir Charles, It is impossible to have greater proofs 
than these, of united talents and application. 

Louisa, Whilst he was in Cambridge, he also distin- 
guished himself by his poetical compositions, both in 
Latin and English. 

Mr, Allen. Much has been said respecting the con- 
duct of Milton while in the university, and it is possi- 
ble he may have given offence to the heads of the 
college, by his acknowledged dislike to the discipline 
of the Established Church, or to the plan of educa- 
tion then adopted ; for what are called puritanical 
principles had been instilled into his mind by his 
private tutor, even when a boy. He appears to have 
suffered the punishment of rustication, or a temporary 
dismissal into the country; yet he afterwards resided in 
college for some years, and probably until he took the 
degree of master of arts. 

Louisa, His father had now retired from business, 
and gone to reside at Horton in Buckinghamshire, 
whither Milton also went after he left college. 

Frederic, Here he wrote his charming masque, or 
dramatic poem, of '^ Comus," in the year 1634, when 
he was only twenty-six years of age. 

Louisa. Comus was set to music and acted at Ludlow 
castle, before the Earl of Bridgewater, who, at that 
time, was President of Wales. The story of this piece 
is said to have been suggested by the circumstance of 
the daughter of this nobleman, Lady Alice Eger- 
ton, having once been separated from her company in 
the night, and having, for some time, wandered alone 
in the forest of Haywood, as she was returning from 
a distant visit. 

Not having embarked in any settled profession, 
Milton obtained permission from his father to travel 
on the continent. He visited all the most important 
parts of France, Italy, Sicily, and Greece; and re- 



JOHN MILTON. 231 

turned to England after an absence of about fifteen 
months. 

Edmund, He returned at a time when this country 
was involved in a civil war, which cost its monarch his 
life, and drained it of thousands of its best subjects. 
I trust that Milton was not aiding in the commotion. 

Louisa. It does not appear that he was ; for, finding 
his allowance from his father not sufficient for his 
support, he seems to have honestly applied himself 
to a laborious, but useful employment, that of a school- 
master. He took, for this purpose, a large house in 
Aldersgate-street, London; and soon obtained a con- 
siderable number of pupils. 

Frederic, He did so ; but, as Dr. Johnson has ob- 
served, he at the same time lent '' his breath to blov7 
the flames of contention." He published several pam- 
phlets against the existing state of things, but more 
particularly against the government and discipline of 
the Church of England. 

A very singular circumstance occurred to him about 
this time. 

Louisa, You allude, I am sure, to his marriage with 
an Oxfordshire lady, whose name was Powell. She 
resided with him about a month, and then, on a pre- 
tence of visiting her relations, wholly absented herself, 
and resisted all his entreaties to return. 

Mr, Allen. It is very extraordinary that he at last 
determined to be divorced from her ; though no court, 
either of law or equity, would authorize such a pro- 
cedure. He published his own opinions on the sub- 
ject of divorce, and, in direct opposition to the law, 
proposed to marry another person. The friends of his 
wife were now alarmed, and became anxious for a 
reconciliation ; which they thus effected. Whilst Milton 
was on a visit at the house of a relative, it was contrived 
that his wife should be concealed in an adjacent room ; 
and, unsuspicious of such a stratagem, he was sur- 
prised by seeing her on her knees befere him, and, 
with tears, imploring his forgiveness. He resisted her 



232 POETS. 

entreaties for some time, but his firmness at last gave 
way; and, by the intercession of friends, a recon- 
ciliation was effected. 

Si?' Charles. This is certainly as singular an occur- 
rence as I ever read of, and, upon the whole, a very 
unaccountable one. 

Mr, Allen. It is the more singular, because they are 
said to have afterwards lived very happily together. 

Frederic. Subsequently to the death of Charles the 
First, Milton became conspicuous as a violent political 
writer; and, particularly, published a tract in justifica- 
tion of the murder of the king. He states, even in 
the title, '^ that it is lawful, and hath been held so 
through all ages, for any who have the power, to call to 
account a tyrant or wicked king; and, after due con- 
viction, to depose and put him to death, if the ordinary 
magistrate have neglected or denied to do it." 

Sir Charles. This must certainly be a most dangerous 
doctrine. If the right to punish kings belongs to 
any who have the power, and if the power only 
renders the act lawful, no king can be safe, and the 
stability of no government can be fixed. 

Mr. Allen. The point is certainly not tenable, and 
even Milton's warmest advocates cannot defend it. 
He wrote some other political tracts; and even com- 
menced a "• History of England," but brought it down 
to no later period than the battle of Hastings. 

Frederic. For his services to Cromwell, and the 
commonwealth, Milton was offered the situation of 
adjutant-general, in one of the divisions of the army; 
but the new-modelling of the forces, which soon after- 
wards took place, proved an obstruction to the accom- 
plishment of this measure. 

Sir Charles. But he obtained another situation. 

Frederic. He was appointed Latin secretary to the 
council of state; which had resolved neither to send 
nor to receive any letters but in the Latin language, 
as common to all nations. 

Louisa. I cannot say, that I much admire, nor, per- 



JOHN MILTON. 233 

haps, do I understand much of the political principles 
of Milton. What I have chiefly been delighted with 
is his poetry, particularly his *' Paradise Lost," a 
great part of which is said to have been written after 
he had been totally deprived of sight. 

Frederic. His sight had for a long time been gra- 
dually failing; and he was quite blind, when only 
forty-four years of age. 

Edmund, After the death of his wife, though then 
blind, he married again. This wife did not live twelve 
months, and he was a third time married, 

Frederic. Respecting his blindness, we are told, tliat 
the Duke of York, afterwards King James the Se- 
cond, one day called upon Milton out of curiosity, 
and, in the course of conversation, asked him, " Whe- 
ther he did not think that his blindness was a judg- 
ment upon him for what he had written against the 
late king?" Milton readily replied, *' If your high- 
ness think that the calamities which befal us here are 
indications of the wrath of heaven, in what manner, 
sir, are we to account for your father's fate ? The dis- 
pleasure of heaven must, upon this supposition, have 
been much greater against him than against me; for I 
have only lost my eyes, whereas he lost his head." At 
this answer the duke was exceedingly offended, and 
went away very angry. 

Ladij Irwin. I think he deserved such an answer ; 
for the question was not only foolish, but impertinent, 
whatever the political principles of Milton may have 
been. 

Louisa. At the restoration of Charles the Second, 
I presume, Milton must have been much alarmed 
for his personal safety, on account of his inveteracy 
against the late king. 

Frederic. He was so; and, by the advice of his 
friends, was induced to conceal himself, until a general 
pardon of state delinquents was made known. So far, 
however, was the new government from any inclina- 
tion to persecute him, that he was offered his former 



234 POETS. ; 

place of Latin secretary ; but his principles would 
not allow him to accept it, 

Edmund, It appears that his Paradise Lost, which 
had been long in preparation, was published in the 
year 1667. 

M7\ Allen, This unequalled poem is said to have been 
dictated by him to one of his daughters ; and Milton has 
declared a remarkable circumstance concerning it, that 
** his poetical vein never flowed happily but from the 
autumnal to the vernal equinox, and that what he 
attempted at other times was not to his satisfaction," 
Notwithstanding the great labour with which it was 
written, he sold it for so small a sum as five pounds, 
on condition of receiving five pounds more after the 
sale of thirteen hundred copies of the first impression; 
and five pounds after the sale of an equal number of 
the second and third editions respectively. 

Sir Charles, It has been stated that the whole sum 
received for it by Milton himself, was ten pounds; and 
that his widow, after his death, accepted from the 
printer the further sum of eight pounds, in fuU of all 
demands. 

But how, my dear Louisa, do you like his " Para- 
dise Regained V 

Louisa, By no means so well as Paradise Lost; 
though Milton is himself said to have esteemed it the 
better poem. 

Mr, Allen, The Messiah, in Paradise Regained, 
with all his meekness, his dignity, and his reasoning, 
makes a less splendid figure than when, in the other 
poem, he is introduced, clothed with the terrors of 
Almighty vengeance, wielding the thunder of hea- 
ven, and riding along the sky, in the chariot of his 
power. The origin of this poem is somewhat curious. 
Milton had lent the manuscript of Paradise Lost to 
a Quaker, whose name was Ellwood; and, when it 
was returned, asked what he thought of it. Ellwood 
spoke of it in terms of great commendation, but 
observed, ^'Thou hast said much of Paradise Lost; 



JOHN MILTON. 235 

what hast thou to say of Paradise Found?" Milton 
made no reply : he sat for some time silent ; then broke 
oft* the discourse, and spoke of another subject. Several 
months afterwards, Ellwood called upon him m Lon- 
don ; Milton showed him his *' Paradise Regained;" 
and said to him, *'This is owing to you; for you put 
it into my head, by a question you formerly put to me, 
and which before I had not thought of," 

Louisa, I recollect that Dr. Johnson, in his long 
critique on the poetical works of Milton, says of 
Paradise Lost, that ** It is a poem which, considered 
with respect to design, may claim the first place, and 
with respect to performance, the second among the 
productions of the human mind. Every line breathes 
sanctity of thought, and purity of manners, except 
when the train of the narration requires the introduc- 
tion of the rebellious spirits ; and even they are com- 
pelled to acknowledge their subjection to God, in such 
a manner as to excite reverence, and confirm piety." 
In another place this eminent writer says, **The 
thoughts which are occasionally called forth in the 
progress of this poem are such as could only be pro- 
duced by an imagination in the highest degree fervid 
and active ; to which materials were supplied by inces- 
sant study, and unlimited curiosity." 

Sir Charles, Dr. Jolmson has also described the 
personal appearance and domestic habits of Milton. 
Do you recollect these, Louisa ? 

Louisa, I do, sir, perfectly. He says that Milton 
had the reputation of having been in his youth eminently 
beautiful, so as to have been called the Lady of his 
college. His hair, which was of a light brown colour, 
was parted at the top, and hung down upon his 
shoulders, according to the picture he has given of 
Adam. He was somewhat below the middle stature, 
vigorous, and active ; and delighted in the exercise of 
the sword, in which he is related to have been emi- 
nently skilful. His domestic habits, so far as they are 
known, were those of a severe student. He drank 



23G POETS. 

little strong drink of any kind. In his youth Le 
studied late at night; but afterwards changed hi8 
hours, and rested in bed from nine to four in summer,, 
and from nine to five in the winter. But the course of 
his day was best known after he was blind. When he 
first rose, he heard a chapter read in the Hebrew 
Bible, and then studied till twelve ; then took some 
exercise for an hour; then dined; then played on the 
organ, and sang, or heard another sing; then studied 
till six; then entertained his visitors till eight; then 
supped : and, after a pipe of tobacco and a glass of 
water, went to bed. 

Mr. Allen. His was a life of indefatigable study, 
which he continued nearly till the time of his death. 
This was occasioned by the gout in his stomach, on 
the eighth of November, 1G74, in the sixty-seventh 
year of his age. His remains were interred near those 
of his father, in the chancel of the church, of St. 
Giles, Cripplegate; where a monument has been 
erected to his memory by the late Samuel Whitbread, 
Esq. 

Edmund. I have no recollection what family Milton 
left. 

Louisa. The children which survived him were 
three daughters by his first wife. One of these 
married a builder, another died single, and the third 
was married to a weaver in Spital-fields. These used 
to read to their father in no fewer than eight languages ; 
which, by practice, they were capable of doing with 
great readiness and accuracy, though they understood 
no language but English. 

Edmund. For Milton, my dear Louisa, was of 
opinion that, '' one tongue was enough for a woman."' 

Sir Charles. One of his grand-daughters kept a 
little chandler's shop, at the lower end of Hollaway, 
and afterwards in Cock-lane, Shoreditch. 

Mr, Allen. The circumstances of Milton himself 
were never very affluent : he indeed lived above want, 
^liA was contented with competency. During his 



JOHJS DRYDKN. '237 

travels, he had been supported by his father ; and even 
when employed as Latin secretary, his salary was no 
more than two hundred pounds a year. He also ex- 
perienced several considerable losses, and yet died 
possessed of property that was valued at about three 
tliousand pounds. 

It was remarked by Sir Charles Irwin, in conclu- 
sion, that the prose works of Milton were published 
together, in 1806, in seven volumes in octavo. 



THIRTIETH EVENING. 

Louisa, on the preceding evening, had spoken of 
the poetical works of Milton. Her brother now took 
the opportunity of declaring his partiality to the works 
of a poet very different from Milton; a poet who, 
instead of writing epic poems in blank verse, had 
written even tragedies in rhyme, and who had a 
facility in versification, greater perhaps than any other 
English poet. Louisa was at a loss to conjecture who 
this could be ; and at first imagined it must have been 
Pope; but she said she was not aware of his having 
written any dramatic pieces whatever. 

Sir Charles. Can you, Frederic, conjecture who the 
poet is to whom Edmund alludes. 

Frederic. I think it must be Dryden, sir: but I 
hope it is not on account of his rhyming tragedies that 
Edmund prefers him to other poets; for I recollect 
Dr. Johnson says of one of them, the '* Conquest of 
Grenada," (which indeed was acted with unbounded 
applause) that, '* it had been written with a seeming 
determination to glut the public with dramatic wonders ; 
to exhibit, in its highest elevation, a theatrical meteor 
of incredible love, and impossible valour ; and to leave 
no room for a wilder flight to the extravagance of 
posterity. 



238 POETS. 

Edmund. The tragedies of this admirable poet, John 
Dry DEN, are certainly not the favourite parts of his 
works with me. They contain great spirit and anima- 
tion, but mingled with much bombast. As a general 
poet, however, he stands unrivalled for the fulness 
and variety of his harmony, and the free flow of his 
numbers. 

Mr. Allen. And yet, Edmund, there is sometimes 
much carelessness in his versification. It is neither so 
smooth nor so correct as that of Pope. 

Edmund. I admit this ; but it is, on the whole, both 
more varied and more easy. Besides, we ought to 
make some allowance for the much earlier period in 
Avhich he lived. He was born in 1631, nearly sixty 
years before the time of Pope. 

Louisa. Where was he born, and where educated, 
Edmund ? 

Edmund. He was the grandson of Sir Erasmus Dry- 
den, baronet; and born at Aldwinkle, in Northamp- 
tonshire. At an early age he was sent to Westminster 
school; and he was afterwards educated in Trinity 
College, Cambridge, where he appears to have resided 
near seven years. 

Louisa. Did he, in his youth, display any extraor- 
dinary indications of genius ? 

Edmund. None. He wrote some verses, but they 
are said to have been inharmonious ; and he translated 
into rhyme one of the satires of the Latin poet, Per- 
sius. 

Sir Charles. Proceed, Edmund, in relating the prin- 
cipal events of his life. 

Edmund. By the death of his father he inherited a 
small estate in Northamptonshire ; liable, however, to 
some deductions for the support of his mother, and 
her other children. He afterwards became a Roman 
Catholic ; but, at this period, candour requires me to 
state that, he had no fixed principles whatever, either 
in religion or in politics. With respect particularly to 



JOHN DRYDEN. 239 

the latter, he wrote heroic stanzas in praise of Crom- 
well; and, in less than two years afterwards, a poem on 
the happy restoration of Charles the Second, and 
many other loyal verses. 

Frederic. In consequence of these he was appointed 
poet laureat, and made historiographer to the king, 
with an annual stipend, for the two offices, of two 
hundred pounds a year. I do not like this changeable 
conduct, when we so plainly discern an interested 
motive for it. 

Edmund, I perfectly agree with you, Frederic ; but 
it is more the poetry, than the character, of Dryden, 
which I profess to admire. A few years after his 
appointment to the situation of laureat, he became, 
professionally, a writer for the stage. 

Mr, Allen, But, for some time, he was unsuccessful; 
notwithstanding which, the patentees of the theatre had 
so much confidence in his talent, as to contract with 
him to furnish them annually with three plays ; stipu- 
lating that he should receive, as a remuneration for 
his labour, a certain share of profits. This is said to 
have produced him, on an average, about four hundred 
pounds per annum. 

Frederic. In the midst of his theatrical career, 
Dryden had a keen rebuff from a burlesque drama, 
called the '' Rehearsal," written by Villiers, Duke of 
Buckingham, in conjunction with other wits of the 
day. In this comedy, which was several times acted, 
Dryden was burlesqued under the character of Mr. 
Bayes ; and, it is said that, to adapt the ridicule the 
more completely, the actual dress that he wore had been 
borrowed by some finesse ; and that his very phrase- 
ology, and manner of recitation, were exactly mimicked. 
Several subsequent alterations, however, were made in 
the Rehearsal, for the purpose of ridiculing the dra- 
matic performances of other writers. 

Edmund, Though this singular production excited a 
laugh against the poet, it by no means seems to have 
injured his reputation; and, in his satirical poem of 



210 POETS. 

Absalom and Achitophel, he fully avenged himself 
upon the noble author of the Rehearsal, under the 
name of Zimri. In this poem, it is said that, Absalom, 
Achitophel, and David, represented respectively, the 
Duke of Monmouth, Lord Shaftesbury, and King 
Charles the Second. 

Mr. Allen, We approach another important era in 
the history of Dryden; his conversion, of which Ed- 
mund has spoken, to the Roman Catholic religion. ~ 

Frederic, Like his political conversion, this vt^as a 
very sudden one, and apparently from an interested 
motive. It took place on the accession to the throne 
of James the Second, who was himself certainly a 
Papist at heart ; and who had it in contemplation to 
restore Popery in this country. Previously to this, 
Dryden had written many bitter sarcasms against the 
Popish clergy. 

Mr, Allen, His conversion certainly appears to have 
heen so nicely timed, that it is hardly possible, even 
for liberality itself, to ascribe the measure to any other 
than interested motives. It is also to be remarked 
that, either from age, indolence, or exhaustion, he 
was about this time in such distressed circumstances, 
that he even applied, and in vain, for employment as 
an excise officer, or for a situation in the customs; 
stating, that he had three sons, all of whom he was 
educating beyond his means. 

Edmund, In defence of his new creed, Dryden 
published a poetical dialogue, entitled the " Hind and 
the Panther." In this production, the Catholic estab- 
lishment is represented by the hind, and that of the 
Church of England, by the panther; which two 
animals very learnedly discuss the various disputed 
topics of transubstantiation, church-authority, infalli- 
bility, &c. 

Louisa, Could such a poem as this ever be sufficiently 
interesting to excite attention ? 

Edmund, It certainly did excite attention ; for, not- 
withstanding the absm'dity of its plan, it was read with 



JOHN DRYDE.N. 241 

gieat avidity. In the following year be published a 
poem in celebration of the birth of the son of James 
the Second ; and in this he predicted a commencing 
era of prosperity to the church and nation. 

Mr, Allen, By church, he of course meant the 
Romish church; and yet, within a few months after 
his prediction, the Revolution took place, William the 
Third ascended the throne, and the Protestant religion 
became more firmly established than ever. 

Frederic, One of the first measures of the new 
government w as to dispossess Dryden of his places of 
poet laureat, and historiographer; for these his religion 
now disqualified him from holding. 

Louisa, This must have been a very serious loss to 
him. 

Edmund It certainly was so ; but the Earl of Dorset 
(who though, as Lord Chamberlain, had been obliged 
to withdraw his public pension,) had the generosity to 
allow Dryden an annuity of equal value out of his 
own estate. 

Louisa, That was a noble act. 

Edmund, A few years afterwards was published, a 
'' Translation of Juvenal and Persius," m which five 
satires of Juvenal, and the whole of Persius, were 
th^ work of Dryden. But the most popular of his 
works, w as his translation of Virgil into English verse. 
This he commenced in 1694, when he w^as somewhat 
more than sixty-three years of age; and finished in 
about three years. In the dedication of tlie pastorals 
to Lord Clifford, he speaks of it as the production of 
*' the wretched remainder of a sickly age, worn 
out with study, and oppressed with fortune, without 
other support than the constancy and faith of a 
Christian." 

Frederic, It has, however, been estimated tliat Di^ - 
den gained by this undertaking, betwixt twelve and 
thirteen hundred pounds; for his friends liberally 
entered into a subscription for its encouragement. 

Sir Charles. And yet, even after having prepared a 
M 



242 POETS. 

second edition for the press, he was so poor as to be 
compelled to write for his daily subsistence. Scarcely 
relieved from one heavy task, he was obliged to hasten 
another. When on the verge of his seventieth year, 
he was compelled, by his necessities, to enter into con- 
tract witli a bookseller, to supply him with ten thou- 
sand verses, at the rate of sixpence a line. 

Ft-ederic. This bargain produced, in 1700, his 
'^ Fables, ancient, and modern, translated into Verse 
from Homer, Ovid, Boccace, and Chaucer." The 
volume in which these were published, comprised also 
his beautiful ode on St. Cecilia's Day, which he declared 
occupied him a fortnight to compose and correct 

Mr, Allen, The time was now at hand that was to 
terminate all the schemes and labours of this great 
poet. He had, for some years, been harrassed by two 
painful complaints, the gravel and the gout, and at last 
was a cripple in his limbs ; but the immediate cause of 
his death was a mortification in one of his feet. This 
event took place on the first of May, 1701, in the 
seventy-first year of his age; and his remains were 
interred in Westminster Abbey. 

Edmund, The account that has been given of Dry- 
den's funeral is a very extraordinary one. 

Mr, Allen, That, Edmund, to which you allude, of 
Lord Halifax having undertaken to defray the ex- 
penses, and bestow five hundred pounds on the erection 
of a monument to him ; and the whole proceedings 
being stopped by the strange conduct of Lord JefFe- 
ries, who agreed to double this sum ; and the body 
being at last interred at the expense of Dryden's 
family, has been proved a fabrication. 

Frederic. And yet the authenticated account is not 
a little remarkable. A magnificent interment had 
been prepared by several persons of distinction. The 
body, at the suggestion of Dr. Garth, was removed 
from Gerrard-street, to the college of physicians ; 
whence, after he had pronounced a Latin oration in 
praise of the deceased, it was conveyed to Westminster 



JOHN DRYDEN. 24^ 

Abbey, attended by more than a hundred mourning 
coaches. 

>Sir Charles, Ward, the author of a book called the 
'' London Spy," relates, that there was, on the occasion, 
a performance of solemn music at the college, and 
that the procession, as he saw it pass along the streets, 
was accompanied by a concert of hautboys and trum- 
pets. 

Mr, Allen. Do you recollect, Edmund, who it was 
that Dryden married? 

Edmund. He married Lady Elizabeth Howard, 
sister to the Earl of Berkshire ; but the alliance does 
not appear to have been attended by any great pecu- 
niary advantages to him. He had three sons, all of 
whom were educated in Rome. His wife survived 
him about thirteen years, during several of which she 
was a lunatic ; having been deprived of her senses by 
a nervous fever. 

Mr. Allen. It has been observed of Dryden, that 
he was a man of various and extensive, rather than 
of deep and accurate acquirements. It is not a little 
extraordinary, that he should have been a believer in 
what is called judicial astrology, or the pretended art 
of foretelling events by the position of the planets ; and 
that he himself professed an ability to do this. Con- 
greve, who was personally and familiarly acquainted 
with him, has represented the moral character of 
Dryden to have been, in every respect, not only blame- 
less, but amiable. He says that he was humane, com- 
passionate, forgiving, and friendly : that he was easy 
of access himself, but, in his advances to others, back- 
ward and diffident, and of all men the most easy to be 
repelled. 

His works, which are very numerous, and of various 
description, have lately been collected, and published 
in eighteen volumes, in octavo. 



M 2 



244 POETS. 



THIRTY-FIRST EVENING. 

Examples illustrative of the Misery consequent upon 
Imprudence, Dissipation, and Vice. 

When the literary party were assembled this even- 
ing, Mr. Allen proposed somewhat to interrupt the 
mode that had usually been pursued. The intention 
of this was, that, under the class of poets, he might 
state some particulars respecting a few persons, the in- 
cidents of whose liv€s afforded very useful lessons* 
illustrative of the miseries that are consequent upon 
imprudence, dissipation, and vice. The persons to 
whom he alluded were Otway, Pattison, Bovce, Col- 
lins, Chatterton, and Dermody. Some of them, he 
observed, were little known to the world as poets ; but 
he hoped that the facts he had to relate concerning them, 
would not, on that account, be found the less instructive. 
Permission having instantly been obtained, Mr. 
Allen commenced with Thomas Otway, one of our 
most celebrated tragic poets; who, he said, was the son 
of a clergyman, and born at Trottin, in Sussex, in the 
year 1651. He was first sent to Westminster school, 
and afterwards to Christchurch, Oxford; but left 
the university without a degree. Whether he did 
this from want of money, from impatience of aca- 
demical restraint, or from eagerness to mingle with the 
world, is not known ; but it is well known that, early 
in life, he contracted many low and dissipated habits. 

'* A principal object of his ambition seems to have 
been to attain reputation as an actor. Accordingly he 
went to London, apparently with this iatention ; but 
the scheme failed ; he was compelled to leave the stage, 
and he commenced dramatic writer. Tn his twenty- 
fifth year he produced a tragedy called *Alcibiades;' 
and, about twelve months afterwards, another, in heroic 
verse, called ' Don Carlos.' The latter of these is said 
to have been so successful as to have been acted thirty 



THOMAS OTWAY. 243 

uighls following. Otway was also the author of some 
comedies, and of two other well-known tragedies, 
* Venice Preserved,' and the * Orphan.' 

"Whatever may have been the success of these pro- 
ductions, they were certainly not of any permanent 
benefit to their author; who is described to have been 
a favourite companion of the dissolute wits of his 
time. Bad company, and extravagant habits, soon 
involved Otway in great distress. His dramatic talents, 
however, excited pity; and, in commiseration of his 
forlorn circumstances, a cornet's commission, in a 
regiment of horse, then serving in Flanders, was ob- 
tained for him. He joined the regiment; but, being 
soon tired of a military life, returned to London in 
great indigence ; and again endeavoured to subsist by 
writing for the stage. 

"The accounts of his death have been variously 
related. Dr. Johnson says that, having been compelled, 
by his necessities, to contract debts, and having been 
hunted (as he expresses it) by the terriers of the law, 
he retired to a public house on Tower-hill, where he 
died of absolute want. One of his biographers relates 
that, almost naked, he went out in the rage of hunger, 
and, finding a gentleman in a neighbouring coffee-house, 
asked him for a shilling ; that, the gentleman gave him 
a guinea, and Otway, going away, bought a roll, and 
was choked with the first mouthful. Pope has stated 
that, having had an intimate friend, who was murdered 
in the street, the murderer fled towards France, and 
that Otway pursued him, on foot, as far as Dover ; 
where he was seized with a fever, occasioned by exces- 
sive fatigue ; and that, afterwards, he was conveyed to 
London, where he died. 

"But whatever may have been the cause of his 
death, it has never been denied that indigence, and its 
concomitants, sorrow and despondency, pressed hard 
upon him through life. He died on the fourteenth of 
April, 1685, in the thirty- fourth year of his age ; and 



240 POETS. 

his remains were deposited in a vault under the church 
of St. Clement Danes, London. 

*' The second person whom I shall mention," (conti- 
nued Mr. Allen) " is perhaps rather to be pitied for 
the consequences of excessive imprudence, than cen- 
sured for those of absolute vice. His name was 
William Pattison. He was the son of a respect- 
able farmer^, who resided in the county of Sussex; 
was born at Peasmarth in that county, in the year 
1706; and educated at Appleby, in Westmoreland. 
Having early discovered a propensity to learning, and, 
particularly, a taste for poetry, the Earl of Thanet, 
the landlord of his father, was at the expense of his 
education, and sent him to Sidney College, Cambridge. 
Here, though not disinclined to application, he con- 
tracted a habit of desultory reading, and had no relish 
for academical studies. He was beloved by his fellow 
students, though his temper could not bear resti-aint. 
On a quarrel with the tutor, he rashly struck his name 
off the college boards, and, in utter thoughtlessness, 
quitted it for ever. His gown he left behind; and 
made an apology for his conduct only by an insulting 
satirical farewell, which he penned upon it. 

" Headstrong, thoughtless youth ! little did he con- 
template the miseries which, by his folly, he was soon 
to encounter. He fled to London, to take up the trade 
of a poet ! Even now would his friends have forgiven, 
and replaced him. But every importunity to return 
to college, he resisted. The pleasures of the town, the 
desire of being known, a romantic expectation that he 
should find some generous patron to reward his merit, 
and a determination no longer to endure restraint, ren- 
dered him deaf to advice. In reply to a friend who 
had written to express his fears respecting the innume- 
rable temptations to which a youth of his volatile dis- 
position was liable, in such a place, he pictured every 
thing as promising success and liappiness : he had re- 



WILLIAM PATTISON. 247 

solved on running the perilous career of literary glory ; 
all he hoped for seemed, for a while, to be realized : 
he mixed with wits, and passed bis time with men of 
pleasantry and genius. Unhappy youth ! vithout for- 
tune, without even any reasonable means of subsist- 
ence ; a few montlis elapsed, and all these vivid phan- 
toms of happiness were vanished. Involved in the 
most deplorable wretchedness, he describes himself as 
destitute of friends, of money; a prey to hunger, and 
without a roof to shelter him ; passing his days in 
misery, and his nights on a bench in St. James's-park. 
His first prudent thought appears to have been a reso- 
lution to solicit subscriptions for a volume of poems, 
which he proposed to publish. A letter that he wrote 
to a gentlemen on this subject, affords a dreadful picture 
of the state both of his body and mind. 

'Sir, 

' If you was ever touched with a sense of 
humanity, consider my condition. What I am, my 
proposals will inform you; what I have been, Sidney 
College, in Cambridge, can witness ; but what I shall 
be some few hours hence, I tremble to think. — Spare 
my blushes. — I have not enjoyed the common neces- 
saries of life for these two days ; and can hardly hold 
to subscribe myself, — Yours, &:c.' 

**He died soon afterwards, in the year 1727, and 
the twenty-first year of his age ! 

'^ Samuel Boyse, of whom I shall next give you 
an account, affords an example of the most atrocious 
depravity. He was an Irishman, the son of a dissent- 
ing clergyman, and born in Dublin, in the year 1708. 
After having received the first rudiments of education 
at a private school in Dublin, he was sent, at the age 
of eighteen, to the university of Glasgow. Scarcely 
had he been there twelve months, when his studies 
were interrupted, and his views in life wholly changed, 
by a rash and most imprudent attachmeiiN; for the 
daughter of a tradesman, whom he married before he 



248 POETS. 

had attained his twentieth year. This marriage inter- 
rupted his studies, involved him in increased expenses, 
and, instead of reclaiming him from dissipation, to 
liabits of virtue, seems only to have opened new temp- 
tations to extravagance and vice. He became involved 
in pecuniary difficulties, which compelled him to quit 
the university abruptly, and return to Dublin, whither 
he took his wife and her sister. 

'^ His father, more amiable than prudent, not only 
relieved his present necessities, but continued t) sup- 
port him and his family, without ever appearing to have 
urged him to procure an independent livelihood. The 
son, as mean as his father was indulgent, instead of 
employing himself in the pursuit of any profession, 
was lost in dissipation. At length, by his thoughtless 
extravagance, his parent was reduced to beggary, and 
during his last illness, was supported by presents from 
his congregation; after his death he was buried at their 
expense. 

"Now it was that the unprincipled youth of whom 
I am speaking, began to feel the evils of his own mis- 
conduct. Deprived of his usual support, he repaired 
to Edinburgh; and, having a turn for poetry, ob- 
tained sufficient encouragement to publish a volume of 
poems. These procured for him the notice, and excited 
the compassion, of several persons of rank. His pros- 
pects began to brighten; his reputation as a poet was 
in some degree established. The Duchess of Gordon 
obtained for him the promise of a situation which 
would have placed him beyond the reach of indigence ; 
but, being at a little distance from Edinburgh, and, the 
day on which he was directed to deliver Jier grace's 
recommendatory letter having been rainy, Boyse de- 
clined exposing himself to the weather, and did not 
afterwards deliver it until the place was given away. 

*'The consequence of carelessness and imprudence 
like this may easily be imagined. He became involved 
in distress ; and was compelled to leave Edinburgh to 
escape the pursuit of his creditors. The duchess. 



SAMUEL BOYSE. 249 

1jowe\ er, did not still forsake him. His project being 
next to visit London, she gave him a letter of introduc- 
tion to Pope. He also obtained letters to the Lord 
Chancellor, and to several other persons of rank. Pope 
happened to be from home when he called, and Boyse 
did not repeat his visit; and it has been doubted 
whether he delivered any of the other letters. But, if 
he did, his indiscretion prevented him from deriving 
any benefit from them ; and his miseries soon became 
so great, as to be almost unparalleled in the records of 
literary history. These miseries could rouse him to no 
other exertion than the writing of letters to implore 
relief; and never perhaps was there an object more 
unworthy of commiseration. 

*'His indolence and indiscretion w^ere even exceeded 
by his low selfishness, and gross sensuality. With 
money that he has extorted from benevolence, by his 
supplicatory letters, he has been known to go to a 
tavern, order an extravagant dinner, and drink of the 
most costly wines, without a single companion to parti- 
cipate the luxury ! — and, during this selfish revelling, 
his wife and child were left starving at home. You 
will not be surprised when I inform you that his friends, 
wearied by perpetual applications for relief, at length 
witliheld contributions which they found to be so ill 
bestowed. 

" After this, almost wholly deprived of support, his 
M retchedness became so extreme, that he had no clothes 
in which he could decently appear abroad. Even the 
.sheets on which he had lain, were sold to procure 
liim food; and he was compelled to lie in bed with no 
other covering than a blanket His mode of writing 
in this situation was singular. He sat up in bed 
wrapped in his blanket, through which he had cut two 
holes, larg€ enough to receive his arms ; and placing 
the paper on his knee, scribbled as well as he could, 
the verses which he had to sell for his subsistence. He 
has even been known to supply the want of a shirt, by 
>I3 



250 POETS. 

tying slips of white paper round his neck and wrists ; 
and, in this plight, appearing abroad ; while his other 
apparel was scarcely sufficient for the purposes of 
decency. 

*' In the midst of all this wretchedness, he published 
'The Deity,' a poem which was highly praised by 
some of the best critics of the age. Even Pope as- 
serted that there were lines in it which he should not 
have been ashamed to have written; and Harvey intro- 
duced a favourable notice of it into his Meditations. 

'' Boyse was preserved from absolute starvation, only 
by writing for magazines and other periodical publica- 
tions, and by occasional benefactions, which he often 
procured through the vilest arts of deceit. These arts 
were too various for me to enumerate. One of the 
most frequent and most extensive of them was to issue 
proposals for the publication of works, either written 
or to be written, to obtain the subscription money, 
and think no more of his engagement. Another, and 
still worse, was to employ his wife in circulating a 
report that he was dying, and to entreat the gift of 
money to sustain him in his last moments ; and many 
persons have been surprised to meet, in the streets, 
the very man to whom they had just sent relief, as on 
the verge of dissolution. 

" It is said that, being a good French scholar, he 
would have been able to earn a tolerable subsistence by 
translating works from that language into English. 
This was attempted; but his want of principle was such, 
that, by the time he had finished one sheet, he gene- 
rally pawned the book that had been put into his hands 
for translation : if his employer redeemed it, another 
sheet would be completed, and the book again be 
pawned ; and this perpetually. 

''He was in this forlorn and Avretched condition 
several years ; but, at length, tempted by an allowance, 
though of only half a guinea a week, which he could 
look to with certainty, he was induced to retire into 



SAMUEL BOYSE. 231 

the country, for the purpose of compiling an ' Histo- 
rical Review of the Transactions of Europe, from the 
Commencement of the war with Spain, in 1739, to the 
Insurrection in Scotland, in 1745.' 

** During his residence in the countiy, though his 
allowance was extremely small, he contrived to be 
frequently intoxicated ; and he at last became so com- 
pletely sottish, that his abilities, if not his reason, were 
sensibly impaired. About this time his wife died ; 
and, assuming the appearance of great concern on 
the occasion, and being unable to purchase mourning 
for her, he tied a piece of black ribbon round the neck 
of a lap-dog, which he carried about in his arms. 

*^ On his return to London, his conduct became so 
decent, that hopes were entertained of his entire refor- 
mation. About nine months before his death he 
married the widow of a cutler, with whom he had no 
money, but who proved a careful nurse to him during 
a lingering illness. The remorse which, during this 
illness, he experienced from the recollection of his 
former profligacy, is finely described in his interesting 
poem, entitled the ' Recantation.' He died in obscure 
lodgings near Shoe-lane, London, in the month of 
March, 1749, and the forty-second year of his age ; and 
was buried at the charge of the parish. 

"The whole life of this wretched man seems to 
have been passed in a kind of t^onflict betwixt his 
depraved inclinations, and those religions principles 
which, by his good education, had been early im- 
pressed upon his mind, and so deeply as never to have 
been wholly effaced. If his life be candidly consi- 
dered, it will be found that he suffered no distress of 
which he could justly complain. He exhausted the 
patience of one set of friends after another, with such 
unfeeling contempt and ingratitude, that we are not to 
w onder at his having been compelled to live the pre- 
carious life of an outcast, whom no society is bound to 
maintain. 



252 POETS. 



THIRTY-SECOND EVENING. 

Continuation of Examples illustrative of the Miseries 
co7isequent upon Imprudence, Dissipation, and Vice. 

Mr. Allen, having been requested by the young 
gentlemen to resume his narratives, proceeded as 
follows : — 

" The person to whom I shall next call your atten- 
tion will be William Collins; an amiable, but mis- 
guided, and unfortunate young man, some of whose 
poetry, particularly his *' Ode to the Passions," I 
know is familiar to you all. He was the son of a 
hatter, of Chichester; was born in the year 1720, 
and educated first on the foundation of Winchester 
College, and afterwards in Queen's, and Magdalen 
Colleges, Oxford. His father died in 'embarrassed 
circumstances, and Collins was supported at the uni- 
versity, on a stipend allowed him by an uncle. 

'^ His success in the college exercises seduced him 
into so early an application to poetry, that, while he 
was in the university, he published his ' Oriental 
Eclogues ;' but these, notwithstanding their merit, were, 
at the time, wholly unsuccessful. The acquirements 
of Collins were great. Not only was he acquainted 
with the learned languages, but with the Italian, 
French, and Spanish tongues ; and, full of hopes, full 
of projects, high in fancy, and strong in retention, he 
disdained all thought of settling in any profession. 
He seems to have imagined, like Pattison, that, by 
the exertions of his pen only, he could open for himself 
a road to fortune and to fame. 

" After the usual term of residence in college, to 
obtain his first degree, he suddenly quitted the uni- 
versity; and, without even consulting his friends, went 
to London with numerous projects in his head, and 
little money in his pocket. Literary adventures have 
generally been subject to a life of discomfort and 



WILLIAM COLLINS. 253 

perplexity ; nor was Collins an exception to this com- 
mon lot. He designed many works; but, upon his 
first entrance into the world, was seduced into scenes 
of gaiety and dissipation, which prevented his seriously 
applying to any pursuit. These he had not long the 
means of continuing. It was represented to him that 
he had not a single guinea of his own; and that even 
the fashionable dress which he wore, he would never 
be able to pay for. Such representations, however, were 
of no avail : he was involved within the giddy vortex 
of pleasure, and unable to retreat. 

** While thus living loosely about the town, he occa- 
sionally wrote many short poems ; but several of these 
were burnt as soon as they were written. He pro- 
jected a ' History of the Revival of Learning,' but 
he does not appear to have finished any part of it ; 
and planned several tragedies, but only planned them. 
He wrote his ' Odes ' for a present supply. They 
were purchased by a bookseller, but the profits derived 
from their sale, were not sufficient even to pay the 
expenses of printing; though they have since been 
estimated among the most popular productions in our 
language. This circumstance was so great a source 
of mortification to him, that, some time afterwards, 
when he received a legacy of two thousand pounds, 
on the death of his uncle, he made good to the pub- 
lisher the deficiency of the unsold odes, and, m his 
haughty resentment of the public taste, consigned all 
the remaining copies to the flames. 

** Previously to his coming into possession of this 
money, Collins had, at times, been involved in the 
greatest distress. In one instance, when skulking 
from the pursuit of a bailiff* on watch to arrest him, 
Dr. Johnson, who at that time was himself in circum- 
stances not much more enviable, prevailed with a 
bookseller to retrieve him from his embarrassment, 
by advancing a sum of money, on his engagement 
to write a translation of Aristotle's Poetics, with a 
commentary. It was not long after this that Collins 



254 POETS. 

received his uncle's legacy; on which, instead of jSnis^- 
ing the work that he had engaged to perform, he chose 
to repay to the bookseller the sum that had been lent. 

'' Irresolution seems to have been the great fault of 
Collins through life. Dr. Johnson, who knew him 
well, has asserted that, notwithstanding the errors of 
his conduct, his morals were pure, and his sentiments 
pious ; that, in the midst of his dissipation, he preserved 
the source of action unpolluted; that his principles 
were never shaken ; that his distinctions of right and 
wrong were never confounded ; and that his faults had 
in them nothing either of malignity or design. 

^' The incidents of the latter part of his life cannot 
be remembered but with feelings of the most poignant 
regret. His literary disappointments preyed secretly 
upon his spirits, and gradually repressed his finest 
exertions. The money that had been bequeathed to 
him, accustomed as he had been to a life of want, 
unchequered even by hope, appeared an inexhaustible 
treasure ; and he eagerly snatched that temporary 
relief, with which the bottle flatters and seduces. But 
his health declined; and the clouds which h^ per- 
ceived gathering over his intellects, he endeavoured 
to disperse by travel. He passed into France, but, 
finding himself constrained to yield to his malady, 
returned. After his return. Dr. Johnson paid him a 
visit at Islington, where Collins was waiting for his 
sister, whom he had directed to meet him. There 
was then nothing of disorder perceptible in his mind 
by any except himself; but he had withdrawn from 
study, and travelled with no other book than an 
English Testament, such as children carry to school. 
When his friend took this into his hand, out of cu- 
riosity, to see what companion he had chosen, ' I 
have but one book,' said Collins, * but that is the best.' 
This circumstaance is recorded on his tomb : — 
' He joiu'd pure failh to strong poetic powers, 
And, in reviving reason's hicid hours, ' 

Sought on one book his troubled mind to rest, 
And rightly deem'd the Book of God the best.' 



THOMAS CHATTERTON. 2.>j 

" Collins was, for some time, confined in a house of 
lunatics; but was afterwards given up to the care of 
his sister in Chichester, where he died in the year 
1756, and in the thirty-sixth year of his age. 

" I will now present you with a short account of a 
young man whose life commenced in indigence, and 
terminated, as early as his eighteenth year, in the 
most abject wretchedness; and yet whose superior 
talents, under the care of proper instructors, and the 
control of a well-regulated mind, might have raised 
him to eminence and happiness. His name was 
Thomas Chatterton. The father of this unhappy 
youth was originally a singing man in the cathedral of 
Bristol, and afterwards master of a free-school in that 
city : he died in August, 1752, and this son was born 
on the twentieth of November following. 

" When about five years of age, he was placed at 
the same school which had formerly been conducted 
by his father; but either his faculties were not yet 
opened, or the waywardness of his genius was such, 
that he was returned to his mother as a child inca- 
pable of improvement. She was much distressed at 
the tardy understanding of her son, till he accidentally 
saw a French musical manuscript, with beautifully 
painted capital letters. Taking a momentary advan- 
tage of his curiosity respecting these, his mother was 
enabled to initiate him in the alphabet; after which 
she taught him to read from an old black-lettered 
Bible. 

*' Chatterton was now admitted into a charity-school, 
where he was boarded, clothed, and instructed in writ- 
ing and arithmetic. Instead of the thoughtless levity 
of childhood, he had the gravity, pensiveness, and me- 
lancholy of maturer life. He was frequently so lost 
in contemplation, that, for many days successively, he 
would say little, and even that apparently by con- 
straint. At the hours allotted for play, he generally 



256 POETS. 

retired to read ; and now was particularly solicitous to 
borrow books. Before he was twelve years of age, 
he had read near seventy volumes, chiefly on subjects 
connected with history and divinity. He had also 
begun to write verses, and appeared to have a taste for 
drawing. 

*' When twelve years old he was confirmed; and, 
we are informed, that he made many sensible and 
serious remarks on the aw fulness of the ceremony, 
and on his own feelings preparatory to it. Happy 
indeed would it have been if sentiments like these, so 
congenial to the amiable dispositions of youth, had conti- 
nued to influence his conduct during his maturer years. 

** On his leaving school, Chatterton was articled 
to an attorney in Bristol. Here he conducted him- 
self with great regularity, but his temper was sullen 
and gloomy. He was much confined to the office, 
though he had little actual employment ; and he occu- 
pied his leisure hours chiefly in studying heraldry, 
and English antiquities. 

'* During the time he was in this service, and when 
about seventeen years of age, he attempted a singular 
fraud on the public credulity. A new bridge was 
opened at Bristol, and Chatterton sent to one of the 
Bristol newspapers, ' A Description of the Friars first 
passing the old Bridge,' purporting to be taken from 
an ancient manuscript. To persons who examined 
him respecting this manuscript he declared that he 
had found it among som^ papers, taken from a chest 
in Redcliffe church, Bristol. This was the com- 
mencement of a series of literary forgeries, which he 
subsequently contrived to a great extent. The father 
of Chatterton had formerly taken away from the same 
church, baskets full of deeds, and other manuscripts 
on parchment, which had been deposited there for 
.several generations, and which he chiefly used for the 
covering of books and other similar purposes. It was 
among these parchments that Chatterton pretended to 



THOMAS CIIATTERTON. 2')1 

have discovered several pieces of poetry, written, as 
he asserted, by Rowley, a priest of the fifteenth 
century; and a few of which he made public. The 
whole of them, some years afterwards, were printed 
under the name of Rowley, and many learned men 
were deceived by them; but the fact of their forgery 
has since been ascertained. 

" Hitherto the religious principles of this singular 
youth seem to have been good. How he was unfor- 
tunate enough to receive a tincture of infidelity, we 
have not been informed ; but a change, at this early 
period of life, took place in his religious belief. He 
became a deist; and, connecting infidelity with des- 
pair, avowed his determination of ending a miserable 
life by self-destruction. His master, on perusing this 
threat (which Chatterton had written in a paper, pur- 
porting to be his will, and left exposed in the office), 
dismissed him from his service, after a continuance in 
it of about two years and three quarters. 

" It had been with Chatterton an early maxim, that 
' God had sent his creatures into the world with arms 
long enough to reach any thing, if they would but be 
at the trouble of making use of them.' Whether this 
maxim had any influence upon his conduct, on his 
entrance into life, cannot now be known; but, after 
his dismissal by the attorney, he went to London, on 
a literary speculation, and, in the full expectation that 
he should, without difficulty, be able to subsist by the 
exertions of his pen. This was in the month of April, 
1774, when he was little more than seventeen years 
old ; an age at which youthful indiscretion stands 
peculiarly in need of government and restraint. 

*' He had written to several booksellers in London, 
who, finding his abilities likely to be of advantage to 
them, were by no means sparing of encomiums res- 
pecting him. He wrote some poems for periodical 
publications, and many pieces in prose. The activity 
of his mind, for a while, was almost imparalleled. 
The booksellers encourasfed him with the most san- 



258 POETS. 

giiine hopes of success. In a letter to one of his 
friends, written in high flow of spirits, he states, that 
he already was paid four guineas a month by one 
magazine, and that he should engage to write a his- 
tory of England, and other pieces, which would pro- 
duce him more than double that sum. He speaks of 
an engagement to write a voluminous history of Lon- 
don, for which, besides a handsome salary, he was to 
be accommodated with board and lodging at the book- 
seller's house. 

^' We cannot be surprised that a youth, thrown so 
early upon all the dangers of the metropolis, vain of 
the reception he had met with, and without a friend 
to restrain him, should soon become involved in difli- 
culties. Chatterton early acquired a taste for dissi- 
pation. This involved him in expenses that he was 
unable to sustain. The splendid visions of his first 
projects proved abortive. The labour of writing for 
periodical publications, together with the uncertainty 
of the emoluments derivable from it, were such that 
he was soon involved in poverty. All his other lite- 
rary projects failed ; for his vanity seems to have led 
him to hopes, which, in sound judgment, he could not 
have entertained. He sunk, almost at once, from the 
highest elevation of hope and illusion, to the depths of 
despair. He now removed from a house in which he 
had lodged, in Shoreditch, to another, kept by a Mrs. 
Angel, a sack maker, in Brook-street, Holborn. Here, 
abandoning his literary pursuits, he proposed to go out 
to Africa, as a surgeon's mate ; imagining that the little 
knowledge of surgery which he had acquired in the 
course of his miscellaneous reading, would be suffi- 
cient recommendation of him for such a service. But 
in this project he was also disappointed. No longer 
employed by the booksellers, he became involved in 
the most deplorable wretchedness. He settled into 
a gloomy despondence, and the short remainder of his 
days was passed in a conflict between pride and poverty. 
On the day preceding that of his death he refused an offer 



THOMAS DERMODY. 2o9 

from Mrs. Angel to partake of her dinner : he assured 
her he was not hungry, though she had reason to be- 
lieve that he had eaten nothing for two or three days 
before. On the twenty-fifth of August, 1770, he was 
found dead in his room, in consequence of having 
swallowed poison. This was in his eighteenth year, 
and little more than four months after the commence- 
ment of what he, thoughtlessly and mistakenly, had 
imagined would prove an uninterrupted career of 
happiness and fame. He was interred at the expense 
of the parish, in tlie burying-ground belonging to the 
Shoe-lane workhouse. 

'' When we consider the fate of this unhappy youth, 
every allowance must be made for his unprotected and 
friendless situation. He was but a boy, even at the 
time of his death ; and had he fallen into settled and 
sober habits, his excellent understanding would, in all 
probability, have led him to discover the fallacy of 
those irreligious notions which he had hastily em- 
braced, and to the influence of which his premature 
death must principally be ascribed. We cannot defend 
his conduct, but we must commiserate the melancholy 
end of such a youth, led on by an ardent spirit, with- 
out guide, and without restraint. 

^' These," continued Mr. Allen, '* are but a few of 
the numerous examples which I could relate to you, 
of misery arising from imprudence in the outset, and 
from dissipation and vice in later stages of life. They 
are, however, probably sufficient to convince you of 
the necessity there is of a due restraint upon the 
passions ; and how beneficial it is implicitly to submit, 
in youth, to the direction of others of sounder know- 
ledge, and more correct experience than yourselves. 

'* I will mention only one person more, an obscure 
Irish poet, but a young man of extraordinary abilities ; 
Thomas Dermody, the son of a schoolmaster, at 
Ennis, in Ireland. He was born in the month of 
January, 1775 ; and, when only in his ninth year, had 



200 POETS. 

acquired, under the superintendence of his father, 
such a knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages, 
as, even thus early, to be employed in teaching the 
rudiments of them to tiie other boys. It will increase 
your astonishment to be informed that, when only ten 
years old, his biographer says he had written as much 
poetry as Cowley, Milton, or Pope had produced at 
nearly double that age. 

'' But it is most lamentable that his father only 
instructed him in classical learning, and was entirely 
negligent both of religious and moral attainments. 
He was also fond of drinking in low and dissipated 
company; and this pernicious example gave a most 
unhappy turn to the conduct of his son. Not very 
long after the time of which I have spoken, the boy ran 
away from his friends, and went to Dublin. At first he 
was so much delighted with the various objects which 
caught his attention, tliat he did not trouble himself to re- 
flect that he was in a large city, pennyless and unknown. 
But his pleasure soon gave place to misery; he was 
obliged to sell part of his clothes to satisfy his hunger. 
In a forlorn condition, he had now no other amusement 
than to stroll about the streets. Durin one of his 
walks, he stopped at the window of a bookseller, and, 
taking up one of the books, was cautiously observed 
by the owner, who hastened to watch his property. 
But what was the astonishment of this man on finding 
that the little stranger was earnestly poring over the 
work of a Greek author ! On questioning him, and 
finding that the boy understood what he read, he asked 
him into his house, and gave him some food. Der- 
mody explained his situation; and it immediately oc- 
curred to the bookseller, that, by relieving his neces- 
sities, he might be induced to teach his son the Latin 
language. He made the proposition, and Dermody 
readily assented to the terms ; but, having no steadiness 
of perseverance, he soon neglected to fulfil his part of 
the engagement. His employer, however, pitying his 
forlorn condition, would not throw him upon the world 



THOMAS DERMODY. 2()] 

Liiiirely friendless, and, therefore, recommended hiui 
to another bookseller, as a shop-boy. 

*' Soon after this he became known to Dr. Houlton, 
of Dublin, who, as you may imagine, was not a little 
surprised, to see a country-looking lad, meanly dressed, 
and so young, standing in a book-shop, and reading 
Longinus in the original Greek. He entered into 
conversation with him; and, finding Dermody skilled 
in that language, invited him to dinner. On examining 
him respecting his knowledge, the doctor was so much 
astonished to find him well acquainted with the writings 
of several Greek and Latin authors, that he offered his 
house as a residence, till some better situation could 
be found for him. Delighted with the thoughts of living 
with a gentleman, and a scholar, he accepted the invi- 
tation with many expressions of gratitude. 

" Dr. Houlton, one day, presented Dermody to a 
learned friend of his acquaintance, having previously 
spoken of his astonishing acquirements. On seeing a 
lad of small size, with an open collar, and of almost 
infantine appearance, the gentleman exclaimed, in a 
low voice, ' Pshaw ! it is impossible.' — ' Try him,' re- 
plied the doctor. The gentleman then took out a 
small edition of Horace, and asked him to construe 
any ode he liked best. Dermody returned the book, 
and requested that he would fix upon one. This 
having been done, and the gentleman remarking that 
he had selected a very short one, ' The more suitable,' 
answered Dermody, with a smile, * to a little scholar.' 
He then seated himself at a table, and, in nine minutes, 
produced a poetical translation of it. The gentleman 
was so much astonished, that he presented the little 
poet with the Horace to go into one of his breeches 
pockets, and a handful of silver to occupy the other. 

*' Had Dermody been a boy of docile and amiable 
character, he might have become an eminent and a 
happy man; but he would never attempt to correct 
any errors in his conduct, and would not endure even 
the least contradiction. Dr. Houlton, after a little 



!>G2 POETS. 

while, found him entirely ungovernable; and, at the 
end of about ten weeks, was under the necessity of 
setting him at liberty; but he, at the same time, fur- 
nished him with a considerable sum of money, and 
gave him proper advice relative to his future conduct. 

" After having wandered about, for some time, with- 
out any settled home, Dermody next found an asylum 
with the scene-painter of the Dublin theatre. This 
man introduced him to the players : and some attempts 
were made to place him in a situation where he might 
prosecute his studies; but he disgusted every one by 
his ingratitude and bad conduct. 

" Abandoned now by every person of character, 
he enlisted into the army as a private soldier; and, 
behaving with some decency under the check of mili- 
tary discipline, was progressively advanced to the ranks 
of corporal and sergeant. In the month of Septem- 
ber, 1794, and in the nineteenth year of his age, he 
embarked with the regiment for England. He sub- 
sequently accompanied it abroad, in an expedition 
under the Earl of Moira; and behaved so well, that 
his lordship promoted him to a lieutenancy in the 
waggon corps; but, on the reduction of the army, 
Dermody was put on the half-pay list. Lord Moira, 
however, in addition to his pay, presented him with 
a considerable sum of money out of his own pocket; 
and promised him support if he would conduct himself, 
for the future, with propriety. 

*^ Dermody now came to London, and soon dissi- 
pated all his money in the lowest and most degrading 
vi.ces. After a short time he was arrested for debt, 
and committed to the Fleet prison. From this situa- 
tion Lord Moira liberated him; but, with a threat 
that, unless he amended his conduct, he would entirely 
withdraw his protection. The reproof had a momen- 
tary effect ; but he soon relapsed into bad habits, and 
successively disgusted numerous friends whom, by his 
very extraordinary talents, he had acquired. He 
Avent on from one scene of low depravity to another. 



THOMAS DERMODY. 203 

until his constitution was undermined, and he pre- 
sented a loathsome picture of genius degraded by vice. 
At length, wasted by disease, the consequence of ha- 
bitual intemperance, he died in an obscure hovel, near 
Sydenham, in Devonshire, on the fifteenth of July, 
1802, in the twenty-eighth year of his age. 

" These little histories afford some important lessons. 
We learn from them, in the first place, how much 
unhappiness arises from a want of attention in parents 
to instil early impressions of religion upon the minds 
of their children, and to check the first growth of 
corrupt passions and vicious inclinations. When youth, 
unrestrained, becomes immersed in dissipation, the 
seductions of false pleasure are daily more enticing; 
and the habit of vice once begun, we know not where 
it will end. It destroys every inclination to industry, 
it sinks men into indolence, drains them of the 
means of their subsistence, and eventually ruins both 
their happiness and health. In Pattison we have 
sad example of the consequences of giving way to 
passion, and of the evils that follow from opposing 
those restraints which are absolutely necessary for the 
government of youth. The memoir of Boyse, shows 
us that he was scarcely ever in a situation of distress 
which was not the result of his own folly. Had the 
talents which he possessed, instead of being shrouded 
in indolence, or prostituted to vice, been employed 
according to the dictates of reason and of virtue, he 
might have risen to eminence and respectability, and 
escaped the unhappiness which marked every period 
of his literary career. His life, however, will be far from 
useless, if it in any degree contiibute to convince the dis- 
sipated and thoughtless of the misery which dissipation 
and thoughtlessness must inevitably produce. Collins is 
the only one of the whole whom we can sincerely 
pity. His were chiefly faults of indiscretion, until 
his indiscretion had involved him in irregularity; and 
even then he never lost sight of the main principles of 



2G4 POETS. 

religion and morality. In Chatterton, particularly, 
we discern the wretched condition of one who is 
deprived of all the comforting hopes of another state, 
and who is reduced to seek for happiness in the 
vicious gratifications of life. With respect to Der- 
mody, his character affords no incident on which the 
mind can dwell with pleasure. His whole life forms 
a disgusting and almost uniform picture of depravity; 
deducible, apparently, from a neglect of his parent to 
infuse right principles into his mind; from the per- 
nicious example of low dissipation, which that parent 
set him ; and from the want of an early restraint of 
his own passions. 

** These relations will be further useful if they serve 
to * remind those who, in confidence of superior capa- 
cities or attainments, disregard the common maxims 
of life; that nothing can supply the want of prudence; 
^and that negligence and irregularity, long continued, 
will make even knowledge useless, art ridiculous, and 
genius contemptible.' '' 



THIRTY-THIRD EVENING. 

Mr, Allen. After the interruption that I have 
occasioned, during the last two evenings, it will be 
requisite for you to go back to a period earlier, per- 
haps, than the death of any of the persons I have 
mentioned, except Otway. This must be done, for 
the purpose of introducing some of the celebrated 
poets of the eighteenth century. We have not yet, for 
instance, spoken of Pope, the most eminent of them all. 

Louisa, Pray let him be the subject of conversation 
to-night. 

Mr, Allen, What say Frederic and Edmund to this? 

Frederic, That it will at all times afford us pleasure 
to accord with the wishes of Miss Irwin ; and, if you 
please, I will begin. Alexander Pope, the '' prince 



ALEXANDER POPE. 265 

or rhyme," as he has been sometimes styled, was the 
son of a wealthy Roman Catholic linen-draper, and 
born in Lombard-street, London, in the year 1688. 
From his birth his constitution was feeble and deli- 
cate; and his disposition peculiarly mild and amiable. 
The first rudiments of his education were obtained from 
an aunt, who, at an early age, taught him to read. The 
art of writing he acquired in a very singular manner, 
also through her directions, by copying printed books ; 
and this he was able to do, all his life afterwards, with 
extraordinary skill and dexterity, though his usual 
hand, as may be imagined, from such a mode of teach- 
ing, was far from elegant. When about eight years 
of age, he was placed under the care of a Roman 
Catholic priest, who instructed him in the rudiments 
of the Greek and Latin languages at the same time; 
a method that has not often been practised. 

Louisa, Was lie a quick scholar? 

Frederic. Yes; the elements of classical literature 
he imbibed with the utmost facility ; and, on perusing 
the poets, he is said to have discovered at once the 
peculiar bent of his inclination and the excellence of 
his own genius. 

Edmund. After he had received considerable im- 
provement under his private tutor, he was sent to a 
seminary of Catholics, at Twyford, near Winchester ; 
but was taken aw ay on account of a lampoon which 
he wrote on the master. This svas one of his first 
efibrts in poetry. 

Frederic, And yet, from comparing the various, 
accounts of his childhood, he could not, at that time, 
have been more than ten years old. 

Lady Inviii, Poor little fellow ! What became of 
him afterwards? 

Frederic, He w^as sent to a school near Hyde-park- 
corner. The master of this school sometimes per- 
mitted his boys to go to the theatres; and Pope be- 
came so much delighted with theatrical representa- 

M 



266 POETS. 

tions, that he determined to form the chief events of 
Homer's Iliad into a kind of play. This was made 
up of speeches from Ogilby's translation of that work, 
connected by verses of his own. He persuaded the 
upper boys to act it. The master's gardener represented 
the character of Ajax ; and the whole company attired 
themselves, as nearly as they were able, according to 
the prints in Ogilby's book. 

Louisa. It must have been an extraordinary pro- 
duction. If it has been printed I should very much 
like to read it. 

Mr. Allen. As a specimen of early talent it must 
have been a great curiosity ; but it was probably de- 
stroyed not long after it was thus performed. 

Edmund. We are told that Pope, instead of deriving 
advantage from either of the schools he had been at, 
was so unfortunate as to lose much of the knowledge 
he had previously acquired. In consequence of this, 
his father, who had now retired from business, and who 
lived at Binfield, in Windsor-forest, took him home, 
and placed him under the tuition of another Catholic 
priest ; but still with so little advantage, that when 
only twelve years of age, Pope was permitted to 
pursue his own plan of study. With this view he 
read nearly all such books as he could procure, but 
with a decided preference to poetical works, particu- 
larly those of Dryden, who soon became his favourite 
author, and whose writings he subsequently adopted 
as the model of his own. 

Lady Lwin. Is it known how young Pope was when 
he wrote the earliest of his pieces ? 

Mr. Allen. His '* Ode to Solitude," is believed to 
have been originally composed when he was twelve 
years of age ; but Dodsley, the bookseller, who lived 
in intimacy with him, says he had seen pieces of still 
earlier date than this. 

Frederic. At fourteen he employed himself in some 
of those translations and imitations, which are inserted 



ALEXANDER POPE. 2G7 

Hi the lirst volume of his works. About this time he 
likewise wrote a comedy and tragedy; and he con- 
fesses that he thought " himself the greatest genius 
that had ever lived. '^ 

Lady Irwin. For what profession was he educated? 
Mr. Allen. It is said that his father had recom- 
mended to him the study of physic ; as he considered 
that the deformity of his person, and his feeble con- 
stitution, would render him unfit for any other. But 
this could not have proceeded beyond a recommen- 
dation; for he had such entire confidence in the abili- 
ties, and correct conduct of his son, as to allow him to 
choose any course, which he considered best suited to 
himself: Pope, consequently, was a poet from the com- 
mencement to the end of his life ; and his father had 
the satisfaction of living long enough to see him begin 
to make an honourable fortune by the profession of 
poetry alone. 

Frederic. His " Essay on Criticism," which was 
originally written before he was twenty years of age, 
elevated him to the first rank among the English poets. 
The public, it is said, were astonished to find, in one so 
young, such a knowledge of the world, combined with 
so much maturity of judgment, such extent of reading, 
and such facility of illustration, as are there displayed. 
Edmund. But even the Essay on Criticism was 
surpassed, in celebrity, by his '* Rape of the Lock," 
published about two years afterwards. 

Louisa. What was the origin of this poem ? 
Sir Charles. It was occasioned by a frolic of gal- 
lantry, in which Lord Petre, during a party of plea- 
sure, ventured to cut off* a favourite lock of the hair of 
Mrs. Arabella Fermor. This familiarity was so much 
resented as to occasion a serious rupture between the 
two families. Mr. Caryl, secretary to the queen of 
James the Second, a friend of both parties, requested 
Pope to write something which might show the absur- 
dity of the quarrel, and terminate the animosity that 
n2 






2(58 POETS. 

had been excited. He readily assented, and, in the 
course of a fortnight, completed his design. The 
offended lady was delighted with the delicacy of the 
compliment thus paid to her. She first communicated 
copies of it to her friends, and subsequently prevailed 
with the author to allow it to appear in print. It was 
accordingly published; and, having been received with 
general applause, Pope, in the ensuing year, enlarged 
it by the addition of three cantos, comprising the 
machinery of the sylph. These he wrought with such 
exquisite skill and beauty, as to place the Rape of the 
liock in a rank far above all the mock heroic poems 
that had ever been published. 

Frederic. Induced by the success which had attended 
the translation of Virgil, by Dryden, and probably also 
by a desire to rival that work. Pope, in the twenty- 
fifth year of his age, commenced a verse translation 
of Homer's Iliad. This he completed, and published 
by subscription, at the price of six guineas. Its success 
far exceeded his expectation ; for it has been shown to 
have yielded him the clear sum of more than H^e 
thousand three hundred pounds! and, by the trans- 
lation of the Odyssey, subsequently published, he is 
said to have gained about four thousand three hundred 
pounds more. 

Lady Irwin, These were large sums to have been 
obtained by one work. Few^ other poets, I should 
imagine, have been so successful. 

Mr, Allen, The success of Pope, it is to be feared, 
may have induced many to imagine the writing of 
poetry a ready way both to wealth and fame ; but, of 
those who have tried it, there are few indeed who, in 
the end, have not found themselves deceived. 

Edmund, Is there not a notion, sir, that Pope was 
unequal to the task of translating Homer from the 
original Greek ; and that he derived considerable aid 
from the Latin, French, and English versions of that 
work which were then extant? 



ALEXANDER POPE. 2G0 

3Ir, Allen, A great clamour on this subject was 
raised at the time. It is possible that Pope, in conse- 
quence of his irregular education, was not a good 
Greek scholar, yet there can be no doubt but he had a 
competent knowledge of the language, for the comple- 
tion of what he undertook. His work, however, as 
Dr. Warton has observed, is too highly ornamented. 
** No two things can be so unlike as the Iliad of 
^omer, and the Iliad of Pope. To colour the images, 
to point the sentences, to lavish Ovidian graces on tJie 
simple Grecian, is" (he says,) " to put a bag wig on 
the fine busts of the venerable old bard." — But we 
must proceed with his history. 

Frederic, Out of the money which Pope obtained 
from the Iliad, he purchased a house at Twickenham, 
on the bank of the Thames, about ten miles west of 
London. Thither he removed, with his father and 
mother, in the year 1715. 

Sir Charles, The taste that he afterwards displayed 
in improving this residence, became an object of general 
admiration, and continued so for near a century; but, 
in the year 1807, the house was pulled down, and the 
grounds, from the many alterations they have since 
undergone, can no longer be associated with the taste 
and skill of their once celebrated oAvner. 

Frederic, In relating the history of this great poet, 
I must not omit to mention an accident, by which he 
had nearly lost his life. He was returning home in a 
friend's chariot, when, on passing a bridge, the carriage 
was overturned, and, with the horses, thrown into the 
river. As the glasses were up, and he was unable to 
break them, he would no doubt have been drowned, 
had not the postilion come to his relief, and carried 
him to the bank. A fragment of the broken glass, 
however, wounded his hand so deeply, that he lost the 
use of two of his fingers ever afterwards. 

Sir Charles. The success which had attended the 
writings of Pope, excited the jealousy of many of the 
minor poets of the day, and of numerous others, who 



270 POETS. 

assailed him from all quarters. But, after a patienrr 
of nearly ten years, he determined to crush his adver- 
saries in a mass by one strong and decisive blow. This 
he accomplished in a well-known satirical poem, enti- 
tled the '' Dunciad," which first appeared in 1727. 

Lady Irivin, I have heard the religious opinions of 
Pope censured; and some persons assert, that the 
tenets contained in his celebrated ** Essay on IMan,'^ 
are more favourable to natural than to revealed 
religion. 

Mr, Allen, The whole scheme of this poem was 
drawn up by Lord Bolingbroke, in a series of propo- 
sitions which Pope was to amplify, versify, and illus- 
trate. It has even been asserted that it was wholly 
composed by Bolingbroke, in elegant prose, and that 
Pope did no more than turn this into verse. We 
are assured that Bolingbroke highly approved of it; 
and his opinions were certainly not very favourable to 
revelation. Voltaire also applauded it. There can be 
no doubt that several of its passages are so expressed 
as to be favourable to the doctrines denominated 
fatalism and necessity, notwithstanding all the pains 
that can be taken, and the artful turns that have been 
given, to place them on the side of religion, and 
make them coincide with the fundamental doctrines of 
revelation. The opinion that man is in a fallen and 
degraded state, is strongly denied in almost every line 
of the Essay on Man. 

Frederic, Betwixt the time when this poem was 
published and his death. Pope wrote several short 
pieces. He even printed a collection of hi& familiar 
letters, to counteract a spurious edition which had 
previously been published. Not long after this his 
health declined, and he suffered much from a severe 
asthmatic complaint, constant headachs, ant incessant 
rheumatic pains. At last he sunk into an almost help- 
less state of decay, which terminated in his death, on 
the thirtieth of May, 1744, and the fifty-sixth year of 
his age. His body was deposited, according to his 



ALEXANDER POPE, 271 

own request in a vault, in the church of Twickenham, 
which contained the remains of his parents. 

Louisa. Was not Mr. Pope very much deformed ? 

Sir Charles, In person he is described to have been 
protuberant both behind and before ; and to have been 
so low of stature that, to bring him on a level with 
common tables, it was necessary to raise his seat. But 
his countenance was animated, and his eye remarkably 
piercing. From the contraction of one side of his 
body, and the general feebleness of his frame, he 
could scarcely hold himself upright; he therefore, very 
pardonably, wore stays. Under a coarse linen shirt, 
with fine sleeves, he wore a fur doublet; and, to en- 
large the bulk of his legs, had three pair of stockings. 
These, as he was unable either to dress or undress 
himself, were drawn on and off by his maid-servant. 
Sickly, fretful, and impatient, he was always extremely 
troublesome to the servants of those families whom he 
visited; but he did not neglect to compensate their at- 
tention by pecuniary rewards. 

Louisa, What was the general character of Pope? 
was he not exceedingly parsimonious ? 

Sir Charles. His love of money is described rather 
to have been an eagerness to obtain, than a solicitude 
to keep it; for he was by no means illiberal, either in 
loans to his friends, or in contributions to relieve dis- 
tress. Prpe's chief faults seem to have been a suscep- 
tibility of offence, and a disposition strongly inclined 
to revenge ; but these had a powerful overbalance of 
virtues ; for one of his most intimate friends asserted 
that, '* he had never known a man who had a more 
tender heart for his friends, or a more extended friend- 
ship for mankind in general." One part of his cha- 
racter is peculiarly pleasing. I allude to his filial piety. 
In this, as Dr. Johnson has observed, he was in the 
highest degree amiable and exemplary. His parents 
had the happiness of living till he was at the summit 
of his poetical reputation, at ease in his fortune, 
and without a rival in fame ; and they found no dimi- 



272 PORTS. 

nutioii either of bis respect or tenderness. Whatever 
was his pride, to them he was obedient ; and whatever 
his general irritability of disposition, to them he was 
gentle. And life has, among its soothing and quiet 
comforts, few things better to bestow than such a son. 

Lady Irwin. Pope, I know, was a Roman Catholic 
during a considerable part of his life ; and, if T recol- 
lect, continued such until his death. 

Mr, Allen, Immediately before his death, Jie was 
prevailed with to receive the sacrament from a Popish 
priest ; yet, when in the full possession of his intellect, 
he had too clear and solid an understanding not to dis- 
cern the gi'oss absurdities of the Romish superstition. 
And he once acknowledged to Dr. Warburton that, 
he was convinced the church of Rome had all the 
.marks and signs of that antichristian power and 
apostacy, which are so strongly described and pre- 
dicted in the New Testament. 

It now only remains to be observed, concerning his 
w^orks, that they were collected, and published, with 
notes, by Dr. Joseph Warton, in nine volumes, 
octavo, 1797. This collection comprises not only his 
poetry, but also his prose works, consisting chiefly of 
short essays, and his letters. 



THIRTYFOURTH EVENING. 

It was remarked by Frederic, that several of our 
poets had already been mentioned under the heads of 
general writers, and divines. He alluded, particularly, 
to Addison, Swift, Goldsmith, Watts, and Sir William 
Jones, To these he thought there would be no neces- 
sity to revert, as the discussions would, thereby, not 
only be unnecessarily lengthened, but would involve 
much repetition. He consequently proposed the 
omission of all further notice of them; and said he 
would, this evening, introduce the poet Thomson. 



JAMES THOMSON. 273 

Louisa expressed great delight that her chief favourite 
of the English poets should now become the subject of 
attention ; and hoped she might be allowed to partake 
in the debate respecting him. This was immediately 
assented to by all, and Sir Charles requested her to 
begin ; which she did as follows : 

James Thomson was the son of a minister of the 
church of Scotland, and born at Ednam, in Roxburgh- 
shire, on the eleventh of September, 1700. To his 
mother, who possessed uncommon natural endow- 
ments, he was indebted for much valuable instruction 
during his childhood ; and for much of that religious 
sentiment, which subsequently contributed, in no small 
degree, to the excellence of his poetry. After the 
usual course of school education, Thomson was sent to 
the university of Edinburgh, to prepare himself for 
the church. 

Edmund. It would, no doubt, have been highly 
gratifying to his pious and excellent parent, if his 
studies had terminated by his entrance into the sacred 
profession. But this was prevented by an accidental 
occurrence respecting one of his early compositions. 
The professor of divinity had given him, for the sub- 
ject of an exercise, the illustration of a psalm cele- 
brating the power and the majesty of God. His 
paraphrase of this psalm was in itself truly excellent, 
but in a style so highly poetical, that all the auditors 
were astonished with it. The professor complimented 
him upon the performance, but added, with a smile, 
that, ''if he thought of being useful in the ministry, 
he must keep a stricter rein upon his imagination, and 
express himself in language more intelligible to an 
ordinary congregation.'' 

Frederic, Thomson, disheartened by this compli- 
mentary reproof, determined no longer to think of 
divinity as his profession ; but, having received some 
encouragement from a lady of quality, a friend of his 
mother, then in London, he resolved to go thither^ 
n3 



274 POETS, 

though without any settled plans for his future sub- 
sistence. 

Mr. Allen, And he was one of the few literary ad- 
venturers who have not been unsuccessful. 

Louisa. When Thomson first arrived in London, he 
was about twenty-five years of age. He had recom- 
mendations to several persons of distinction. These 
he tied up carefully in his handkerchief; but, as he 
passed along the street, with the gaping curiosity of a 
new comer, his attention was upon every thing rather 
than his pocket. 

Edmund, The consequence of which was, that his 
magazine of credentials was stolen from him. 

Louisa. Poor man ! And with them it may be pre- 
sumed most of his other valuables ; for we find that, 
soon afterwards, he was in want both of shoes and 
clothing. He would, no doubt, have been in great 
distress, had he not found some kind friends who 
relieved his necessities. 

Frederic. In the beginning of the ensuing year, 
Thomson ventured to publish his *' Winter." The 
bookseller gave him a very small sum for the copyright ; 
and the slowness of the sale was such, that he was 
disposed to regret even that. 

Mr. Allen. But Mr. Whately, a man of taste and 
learning, by his strong recommendations, brought it 
into universal notice and admiration. 

Louisa. It was a happy circumstance for Thomson 
that, at this time, he was introduced to the Lord Chan- 
cellor Talbot, who gave him the situation of secretary 
of briefs. This, I understand, was a place of little 
duty or attendance, suited to Thomson's retired mode 
of life, and affording an income sufficient for his 
moderate demands. He afterwards accompanied the 
son of the chancellor, as his tutor, in a tour through 
Europe ; but, previously to setting out on this excur- 
sion, he published his other three Seasons; first '' Sum- 
mer," then '' Spring,*' and last of all " Autumn.'' 



JAMES THOMSOI>r. 275 

Edmund. At the suggestion of several of his friends, 
he wrote a tragedy called ** Soplionisba," which was 
acted in the year 1729; and of which Dr. Johnson 
has said, it had raised such expectation, that every 
rehearsal was dignified with a splendid audience, col- 
lected to anticipate the delight that was preparing for 
the public : but it was observed that no one was much 
affected, and that the company always rose from it, as 
they would have done from a moral lecture. 

Sir Charles, Slight accidents will sometimes operate 
upon the taste of pleasure. There is, as Dr. Johnson 
has observed, a feeble line in the play. 

*' O Sophonisba, Sophonisba, O !" 
This gave occasion to a jocular parody : 

** O Jamie Thomson, Jamie Thomson, O !" 
which for a considerable while echoed throughout 
London ; and which, absurd as it may seem, might 
have operated much to the injury of its author, had he 
not previously obtained great popularity by his other 
works. 

Louisa, During his excursion on the continent, with 
Mr. Talbot, Thomson experienced a heavy affliction in 
the death of this amiable youth; and shortly after- 
wards an irreparable loss, in that of his father. Lord 
Talbot. 

Frederic, These were serious events to the fortune 
of the poet, for he soon found himself reduced from a 
means of comfortable support, to a state of precarious 
dependance. Either through pride, modesty, or igno- 
rance, Thomson neglected to ask the succeeding chan- 
cellor, to continue him in his office of secretary of briefs ; 
and, after a little delay, it was given to another 
person. 

Edmund. Although his chief dependance now was 
upon his own exertions, the loss did not operate upon 
his spirits. After paying a tribute of grief to the 
memory of his departed benefactor, he resumed his 
natural vivacity ; and the profits arising from the sale 
of his works, together with the liberality of new 



270 POETS. 

patrons, particularly of Frederic Prince of Wales, 
who generously allowed him a pension of a hundred 
pounds a year, he was enabled not only to live in a 
respectable manner himself, but also occasionally to 
assist the narrow circumstances of his sisters. 

Louisa, That was liberal ; and his being able to give 
this assistance, affords some proof, that he could not 
have been either dissipated or extravagant. Among 
his subsequent writings, were the tragedies of ^' Aga- 
memnon," and ^'Tancred and Sigismunda," both of 
which were acted with considerable success ; his 
masque of ^' Alfred," composed by command of the 
Prince of Wales, and ''Castle of Indolence," an alle- 
gorical poem. 

Frederic, The latter was dedicated to Lord Lyttle- 
ton ; who, soon afterwards, procured for Thomson the 
place of Surveyor-general of the Leeward Islands, 
worth about three hundred pounds a year. His death 
occurred not long subsequently to this, on the twenty- 
seventh of August, 1748. It was occasioned by a 
violent fever, the consequence of a neglected cold, 
caught by going in a boat, after he had overheated 
himself by walking. Thomson was buried in the 
church of Richmond; and, in 1762, a monument was 
erected to his memory in Westminster Abbey, the 
expense of which was defrayed by the profits arising 
from a splendid edition of his works. 

Louisa, You have mentioned Milton's favourite 
season for writing: that of Thomson was the autumn. 
And the deep silence of the night was the time which 
he commonly chose for his studies. He was frequently 
heard walking in his study till near morning, humming 
over what he had to correct and transcribe on the 
ensuing day. 

Sir Charles, Do you recollect what were the favourite 
amusements of Thomson? 

Louisa, He chiefly employed his leisure hours in 
reading civil and natural history, voyages, and travels ; 
and, had the place of his residence been favourable to 



EDWARD YOUNG. 277 

them, be would no doubt have been partial to all inno- 
cent kinds of rural pursuits. Though he did not play 
upon any musical instrument, he was passionately fond 
of music; and he had an exquisite taste in the arts of 
painting, sculpture, and architecture. 

Frederic, Pray, Mr. Allen, what do you think of 
his works ? 

Mr, Allen, Of all descriptive poems which I have 
read, that of his '' Seasons," is the most excellent. 
Thomson's mode, both of thinking and expressing his 
thoughts, is perfectly original. He had a feeling heart, 
and a warm imagination ; and had studied and copied 
nature with care. Enamoured of her beauties, he not 
only described them correctly, but felt their impression 
with strong sensibility. The impression which he felt, 
he transmits to his readers ; and no person of taste can 
peruse any of his Seasons, without having the idea 
and feelings which belong to that season recalled, and 
rendered present to his mind. The gaity of spring, 
the splendour of summer, the tranquillity of autumn, 
and the horror of winter, take, in their turn, possession 
of his mind. But what I peculiarly admire is that, 
the devotion of the author to the Supreme Being, 
founded on the most elevated and just conceptions of 
his operations and providence, shines through almost 
every page of the work. 



THIRTY-FIFTH EVENING. 

Edmund, The next poet in succession to Thomson, 
of whom I have been able to discover any memoranda 
that are sufficiently interesting for our purpose, is Dr. 
Edward Young, the author of *' Night Thoughts,'' 
and the son of Dr. Young, afterwards Dean of Sarum. 
He was born at Upham, in Hampshire, in the year 
1681; and educated first at Winchester, afterwards in 
New College, and subsequently to this, in Corpus 



278 POETS. 

Christi College, Oxford. The president of the latter, 
out of regard to his father, and, in order to lessen his 
academical expenses, invited him to reside at the 
lodge. 

Lady Irwin, It has been said that, early in life, he 
was not that ornament to religion and morality which 
he afterwards became. 

Mr, Allen, If this ever were the case, which indeed 
seems very doubtful, it must have been when he was 
very young; for we are told that, whilst at All Souls' 
College, of which, after leaving Corpus Christi, he was 
elected fellow, he displayed so much animation and 
ability in the cause of religion, that Tindal, a noted 
deistical writer, who passed much of his time in that 
college, was accustomed to say; *^The other boys I 
can always answer, because 1 always know whence 
they have their arguments, which I have read a hun- 
dred times ; but that fellow, Young, is continually pes- 
tering me with something of his own," 

Sir Charles, Considerable prejudices were afterwards 
entertained against Young, in consequence of his 
having been patronized by the Duke of Wharton^ 
certainly one of the most dissolute men that ever lived ; 
but this was long after the period to which Lady 
Irwin alludes, and when his principles must have 
been firmly established. 

Frederic, Whilst we are speaking of the early life 
of this celebrated man, I must be permitted to relate 
an anecdote which exhibits a lively trait of his charac- 
ter at the time. He was accompanying some ladies 
in a boat to Vauxhall; and, having a flute with him, 
he played to them several tunes, and then put the 
instrument into his pocket. An officer, rowing near, 
declared that if he did not continue his music, he 
Avould throw him into the river. To calm the appre- 
hensions of his party, he complied. Having, however, 
marked his man, he privately addressed him in the 
garden, and insisted upon satisfaction. It was agreed 
that they should meet the next morning. They did so. 



EDWARD YOUNG. 270 

The officer drew his sword; and Young produced an 
immense horse-pistol, with which he threatened to 
shoot his antagonist through the head, if he did not 
now, in return for the music, dance a minuet. The 
delinquent, after many fruitless remonstrances, did as 
he was ordered. 

Mr. Allen, And it is said, he had the good sense 
afterwards to acknowledge, that his impertinence had 
received an appropriate castigation. 

Louisa, Was not Dr. Young a clergyman? and yet 
he wrote some ti^agedies. It does not seem to me 
quite correct, that a clergyman should be a writer for 
the stage. 

Frederic, He was the author of ** Busiris," the 
''Revenge," and another tragedy, called the ''Bro- 
thers ;" but these were all written before he was in holy 
orders. Indeed Mr. Young was not ordained until 
he was more than forty years of age ; and it is observ- 
able, concerning the tragedy of the Brothers, that, 
having been only under rehearsal at the time of his 
ordination, he had the good sense to withdraw it ; and 
this play remained in his desk five and twenty years. 

Sir Charles, He, however, at last suffered it to be 
performed. 

Frederic, True, but for a charitable purpose; and 
the profits derived from it, he made up, out of his OAvn 
purse, to the sum of one thousand pounds ; and gave 
this to the society for propagating Christian know- 
ledge. 

Edmund, Before Mr. Young was in orders, he was 
appointed tutor to Lord Burghley ; and had been a 
candidate to represent the borough of Cirencester, in 
parliament, but was unsuccessful. 

Frederic, He was presented by his college to the 
rectory of Welwyn, in Hertfordshire ; and, soon after- 
wards, married Lady Betty Lee, widow of Colonel 
Lee, and daughter of the Earl of Litchfield, a lady of 
excellent talents, and most amiable disposition. 

Lady Lwin, I have been informed that Dr. Young 



280 POETS. ' 

was a very popular preacher ; and that he was much 
followed, both on account of the grace and animation 
of his dehvery. 

Frederic, Yet we are told that, one Sunday, as he 
vainly endeavoured to rouse the attention of his audi- 
ence at St. James's, where he was preaching as chap- 
lain to the king, he was so much affected, that his pity 
for their folly got the better of his sense of decorum ; 
and, that throwing himself back in the pulpit, he burst 
into tears. 

Lady Irwin, This must have been a very mortifying 
circumstance to him. 

Mr. Allen. You have, as yet, said little respecting 
his publications. 

Edmund, His satires, entitled the '* Lpve of Fame, 
or the Universal Passion," were printed some time 
after he was in orders, and in separate parts, in a folio 
size. They w ere so well received, that he is said to 
have cleared by them, in the whole, more than three 
thousand pounds, including two thousand pounds pre- 
sented to him by the Duke of Grafton. But by far 
the most celebrated work that Dr. Young wrote, was 
his '' Night Thoughts.'' 

Lady Irwin. Do you recollect the origin of that 
work ? 

Edmund. I am not aware of any thing particular 
concerning it. 

Frederic. It was commenced immediately after the 
death of his wife, to whom he had been sincerely 
attached. He has himself stated, in the preface, that 
the occasion of it was real, and not fictitious. 

Mr. Allen. With respect to the charactei^ mentioned 
in this poem, Narcissa is said to have been his daughter- 
in-law, and Philander to have been Mr. Temple, the 
gentleman whom she married. There is a notion that 
his own son w^as intended by Lorenzo ; but this could 
not have been the case, as he was only eight years old 
when the work was written. It is possible that Young 
might have had the Duke of Wharton in mind at the 



KDWARD YOUNG. 281 

time : in other respects, Lorenzo is believed to have 
been a fictitious character. 

Sir Charles. Dr. Young, after this, published a work 
in prose, with the extraordinary title of the *' Centaur 
not fabulous." In explanation of this title he says 
that, **The men of pleasure, the licentious, and pro- 
fligate, are the subject of these letters : and in such, as 
in the fabled centaur, the brute runs away with the 
man ; therefore I call them centaurs. And further, I 
call them centaurs not fabulous, because by their 
scarcely half human conduct and character, that enig- 
matical and purely ideal figure of the ancients is not 
unriddled only, but realized." 

Frederic, It has been asserted that Dr. Young was 
never cheerful after the death of his wife; but this has 
been attributed to other causes than that, and particu- 
larly to a disappointment of higher preferment in the 
church than he obtained. 

Mr. Allen. One would imagine this impossible with 
a person whose mind was so well regulated as that of 
Dr. Yoimg appears to have been. When this circum- 
stance was mentioned to Dr. Johnson, he naturally 
replied, that, *'itwas not becoming in any man to have 
so little acquiescence in the ways of Providence, as to 
repine because he had not obtained so much preferment 
as he expected." 

Frederic. In the early part of his life Young seems 
to have had nothing gloomy in his disposition; and 
indeed was celebrated for his wit, and the general bril- 
liancy of his conversation. Dr. Warton describes him 
to have been one of the most amiable and benevolent 
of men. He also says, that, in the variety and novelty 
of his bon mots and repartees, Young was far superior 
even to Voltaire. 

Mr. Allen. But his turn of mind, late in life, was 
certainly much otherwise than cheerful. When at 
home in the country, he would pass many hours of 
the day, walking in his own church-yard, among the 
tombs. His conversation, and his writings, had all 



282 POETS. 

now reference to a future life; and this turn of dispo- 
sition mixed itself even with his improvements in gar- 
dening. He had, far instance, an alcove with a bench 
near his house ; and so painted, that, at a distance, it 
looked like a real one. But, when the spectator ap- 
proached it, the deception was perceived, and this 
motto appeared, Invisibilia non decipiunt, *'The 
things unseen do not deceive." 

Sir Charles, A few years before the death of Dr. 
Yo.ung, his eye-sight in a great degree failed him. In 
a letter to a friend, written when more than eighty 
years of age, he says, *' My sight is so far gone, as to 
lay me under the necessity of borrowing a hand to 
write this. God give me grace, under this darkness, to 
see tlrose great things with which you and I must soon 
be acquainted. There is not a day of my long life 
that I desire to repeat ; and at fourscore it is all ' labour 
and sorrow.' What then have we to do? But one 
thing remains; and in that one, blessed be God! by 
his assistance, we are sure of success. Let nothing, 
therefore, lie heavy on your heart: let us rely on Him, 
who has done great things for us ; that lover of souls, 
that hearer of prayers, whenever they come from the 
heart, and sure re warder of all those who love Him, 
and put their trust in his mercy." 

On another occasion, in conversation with Dr. Cotton 
of St. Albans, respecting Bishop Newton s publication 
on the prophecies. Dr. Young expressed himself on the 
subject of religion thus : *' My friend, there are two 
considerations upon which my faith in Christ is built as 
upon a rock. The fall of man, the redemption of 
man, and the resurrection of man (the three cardinal 
articles of our religion) are such as human ingenuity 
could never have invented, therefore they must have 
been divine. The other argument is this : if the pro- 
phecies have been fulfilled (of which there is abundant 
demonstration) the Scripture must be the word of God ; 
and if the Scripture be the word of God, Christianity 
must be true.'' 



ROBERT BURNS. 283 

This excellent man closed his pious life, about three 
years afterwards, on the fifth of April, 1765, in the 
eighty-fourth year of his age; and was buried in the 
church of Welwyn, under the communion table. 

Mr, Allen, Nothing I believe now remains but to 
speak of the writings of Dr. Young. With respect to 
his poems, which are by far the most popular of the 
whole, it is, as Dr. Johnson has observed, difficult to 
give any general character ; for they have no uniformity 
of matter, nor any great resemblance to each other. 
Young began to write early, and continued long ; and, 
at different times, had different modes of poetical ex- 
cellence in view. In his *' Night Thoughts," the most 
important of all his works, he has exhibited a wide 
display of original poetry, varied with deep reflections 
and striking allusions ; a wilderness of thought, in 
which the fertility of fancy scatters flowers of every 
hue, and of every colour. This is one of the few 
poems in which the blank verse could not be changed 
for rhyme, but with disadvantage. The wild diffusion 
of the sentiments, and the digressive sallies of imagina- 
tion, would have been compressed and restrained by 
confinement to rhyme. The excellence of this work 
is, not exactness, but copiousness: particular lines are 
not to be regarded, the power is in the whole ; and, in the 
whole, there is a magnificence like that ascribed to a 
Cliinese plantation, the magnificence of vast extent, and 
of endless diversitv." 



THIRTY-SIXTH EVENING. 

Frederic Montagu observed, that all the poets 
hitherto mentioned, had, in some degree, possessed the 
advantages of a good education ; but, that such advan- 
tages had been almost wholly denied to RobertBurns, 
the Ayrshire poet. At the time of his birth, in 1759, 
his father had filled the humble station of gardener. 



284 POETS. 

to a gentleman who resided near the town of Ayr, in 
Scotland : and, liaving had a large family, it was not 
without great pecuniary inconvenience, he could afford 
to send them even to a village school, to be taught to 
read and write. 

It was remarked by Mr. Allen, that the history of 
Burns was a singular, an interesting, and instructive 
one. He said, that his father was not long a gar- 
dener, but that he subsequently had rented a small 
farm. 

Lady Irwin, May I ask whether Burns, when a 
child, had not an exti*aordinary escape from the falling 
of his father's cottage upon him in a storm ? 

Frederic, He had a very extraordinary one. His 
brother Gilbert thus describes it: — '* When my father 
built his clay biggin, he put in two stone-jambs, as 
they are called, and a lintel, carrying up a chimney in 
his clay gable. The consequence was, that as the gable 
subsided, the jambs remaining firm, threw it off* its 
centre; and, one very stormy morning, when Robert 
was nine or ten years old, a little before daylight, a 
part of the gable fell out, and the rest appeared so 
shattered, that my mother, with the young poet, had 
to be carried through the storm to a neighbour's house, 
where they remained a week, till their own dwelling 
could be adjusted." 

Louisa, The parents of Burns must have been very 
poor indeed, to have lived in such a cottage as this. 

Frederic, But, though poor, they do not seem to 
have been discontented. Burns was a strong and hard 
working lad; and was soon useful to his father in 
driving the plough, and attending the farm. At the 
age of thirteen he even assisted in threshing the corn ; 
and at fifteen was his father's principal labourer. 

Louisa, Poor boy ! How had he time to acquire 
any knowledge? 

Frederic, His father did his utmost to instruct his 
children himself, after the labour of the day was over. 
He taught them arithmetic, by their solitary evening 



ROBERT BURNS. 28-3 

candle; and he borrowed for them some useful books, 
among which were Salmon's Gazetteer, Derham's Phy- 
sico and Astro Theology, and Ray's Wisdom of God 
in the Works of Creation. 

Mr, Allen, And he did not omit to impress upon 
their youthful minds, the principles of piety and vir- 
tue. 

Lady Irwin. This must have been an interesting 
sight. A parent struggling against poverty, and yet 
exerting every eftbrt to instruct his children, and ren- 
der them valuable members of the community, is 
deserving of admiration. 

Frederic, Burns has related of himself that the 
two first books he ever read in private, and that 
yielded him more pleasure than any he ever read 
afterwards, were the *' Life of Hannibal," and the 
" History of Sir William Wallace." That of Hanni- 
bal, he says, gave his young ideas such a turn, that 
he used to strut in raptures up and down, after the 
recruiting drum and bag-pipe, and wish himself tall 
enough to be a soldier; while the story of Wallace 
poured into his veins a Scottish prejudice, which, he 
said, *' would boil there till the flood-gates of life shut 
in eternal rest." 

Edmund, He was so desirous to obtain knowledge 
that, when somewhat more than thirteen years of age, 
his father was induced to board him for about three 
weeks with his former village schoolmaster, that he 
might perfect himself in English grammar, and attain 
such a knowledge of the French language, as that 
short time would allow. 

Sir Charles, And so great was his industry that, 
after a fortnight's instruction, he was able to translate 
almost any easy book from that language into English. 

Lady Irwin, Burns may be pardoned a little vanity 
and affectation, the consequence of this ready attain- 
ment of a foreign language. I have heard that he 
piqued himself so much upon it, as to affect French 



286 POETS. 

phrases in conversation, when even his own broad 
Scotch dialect would have served him much better. 

Mr. Allen, A somewhat ludicrous anecdote has 
been related respecting one of his early attempts to 
speak French. When he was in Edinburgh, he hap- 
pened to call at the house of a lady, who had been 
educated in France, and found her conversing with 
a French woman. Burns was determined to try his 
powers. His first sentence was meant to compliment 
the foreigner on her apparent eloquence in conver- 
sation; but, mistaking the idiom of the language, he 
made her understand that she was too fond of hearing 
herself talk. The French woman, highly incensed, 
replied, that she believed '' there were more instances 
of vain poets than of talkative women.'' And Burns 
was obliged to use his own language in appeasing her. 

Lady Irwin, This reproof, I dare say, was not thrown 
away upon him. 

Mr, Allen. In relating my story I have taken you 
somewhat out of the order of time; for nothing has 
yet been said respecting the poetical talents of Burns. 

Fredeiic, These were not conspicuous very early; 
nor, indeed from his situation in life, and probably his 
total ignorance of the writings of other poets, could 
such be expected. He has himself said that it was, 
when about sixteen years of age, he " first committed 
the sin of rhyming ;" and it was not until long after this 
that he became known to the world as a poet. He 
continued at his agricultural labours ; contriving, by 
degrees, to attain a knowledge of mensm^ation and 
geometry. He also made an attempt to learn Latin; 
and had even a few lessons at a country dancing school. 

Edmund, At length, in his twenty-third year, he 
began to feel anxious to do something in life for him- 
self. 

Louisa, Now am I in doubt which he would be 
most inclined to do ; to turn farmer, or depend on his 
poetry for a subsistence. 



ROBERT BURNS. 287 

Edmund, My dear Louisa, he did neither. He 
became a flax- dresser. But this was an unlucky 
affair. His business failed ; and, to finish his misfor- 
tune, as he and some jovial friends were giving a 
welcome carousal to the new year, his shop took fire, 
and was burnt to'ashes; and he, like a true poet, was 
not worth a sixpence. He consequently was obliged 
to give up this scheme. 

Frederic, He had soon afterwards to lament the 
loss of his father; who, having taken a larger farm, 
foimd it unproductive, became embarrassed in his 
circumstances, and died in great distress. When his 
father's affairs were somewhat arranged, the family 
took a farm amongst them, and Robert gaid to him- 
self, '* Come go to, I will be wise.^' He read farming 
books, calculated crops, and attended markets; and 
might have succeeded, but want of patience and per- 
severance overset him, and he gave up his share of 
the farm to his brother. 

Louisa. What next did he do ? 

FredeHc, His next resolution was a wild one, I am 
sure you will say. He determined to try his fortune 
on the other side of the Atlantic. He made what 
little preparation was in his power for a voyage to 
Jamaica; and, for want of money to pay for his pas- 
sage, had actually comtemplated the project of indent- 
ing himself as a servant. As he had wTitten several 
poems, however, he resolved to pubhsh these before 
he went. This he did ; clearing by them about twenty 
pounds. He then went on board a vessel destined to 
the West Indies. 

Louisa, I never before heard that Burns had, at 
any time, left his native country. 

Frederic, Nor did he. His poems were unex- 
pectedly successful. A second edition was called for ; 
and instead of sailing for Jamaica, he now hastened 
to Edinburgh with all imaginable expedition, to super- 
intend and publish this edition. 



288 POETS. 

Louisa, Let me here ask you, Frederic, whether 
Burns was not a man of very dissipated character ? 

Frederic, Till after he was twenty-four years of 
age, his brother, Gilbert Burns, asserted, that he 
did not recollect him ever to have been intoxicated, 
nor was he at all addicted to drinking. His manners 
were, simple, manly, and independent; and strongly 
expressive of conscious genius and worth. 

Mr, Alleri. At this time Burns appears to have had 
a due sense of religion; an ingrained piety and virtue, 
as he himself termed it, which, for several years, kept 
him within the line of innocence. And he invariably 
expressed a deep regret at the levity with which he 
occasionally heard religion treated in some convivial 
meetings that he frequented. 

Sir Charles, Burns has himself said, that the great 
misfortune of his life was to want an aim. No regular 
and profitable occupation of his lime was pointed out 
to him. Hence, at length, he was led to enter into 
dissipation. At the plough, the scythe, the reaping- 
hook, he says, he feared no competitor; and thus set 
absolute want at defiance. This notion tended to 
render him more careless respecting the future than he 
might otherwise have been. 

Air, Allen . At Edinburgh, where he was univer- 
sally flattered and caressed, he was induced to enter 
into many parties devoted to social excesses ; and he 
gradually acquired baneful habits. It is true that he 
saw his danger, and at times formed resolutions to 
guard against it; but he had embarked on the tide 
of dissipation, and was borne along its stream, without 
being able to stem the torrent. 

Lady Lwin, How far did the publication of his 
poems prove eventually beneficial to him ? 

Frederic, It is stated that, on settling accounts with 
his bookseller, in February 1788, Burns found himself 
possessed of a clear sum amounting to nearly five 
hundred pounds. Two hundred pounds of this he 



ROBERT BURNS. 289 

advanced to his brother Gilbert, who had taken upon 
himself the support of his aged motlier, and was 
struggling with many difficulties in the management of 
his farm. 

Louisa. And in what manner did he employ the 
remainder? 

Frederic. With that, and some subsequent profits 
from his poems, he determined to settle himself for 
life in the occupation of agriculture. With this design 
he took a farm, on the banks of the river Nith, six 
miles above Dumfries. He built a house upon it, 
widi his own hands; and having, some time before, 
married a young woman to whom he had long been 
attached, he settled there with his family. 

Edmund. But, Frederic, you have forgotten his 
appointment to the situation of an exciseman. 

Frederic. I have so. Previously to taking this farm, 
Burns had been recommended to the notice of the 
board of excise; and he had entertained an expecta- 
tion that he should be called into service in the district 
in which his farm was situated; and that he should 
thus have been able to unite the labours of two busi- 
nesses that were not, certainly, very compatible with 
each other. 

Louisa. I should like to have seen Burns and his 
family at their farm. 

Sir Charles. Many others besides yourself, my dear 
Louisa, have been desirous of this gratification. In the 
summer of 1791, we are told that two English gentlemen, 
who had previously been in company with Burns at 
Edinburgh, called at his farm. They inquired for him 
at the house, and were informed that he had walked 
towards the banks of the river. Mrs. Burns invited 
them to alight from their horses, which they did ; and 
they proceeded in search of him. At some distance 
from the house, and on a rock that projected into the 
stream, they saw a man employed in angling. His 
appearance was singular. On his head he had a cap 
made of a fox's skin : he wore a loose great coat, fas- 



290 POETS. 

tended round his body by a belt, from which hung an 
enormous Highland broad sword. 

Louisa, What an extraordinary neighbour Burns 
must have had, in this man. 

Sir Charles. It was Burns himself. He received 
them with great cordiality, and invited them to share 
his humble dinner; an invitation which they gladly 
accepted. The table was furnished with boiled beef, 
vegetables, and barley-broth, of which they partook 
heartily. After dinner, the bard told them, ingenu- 
ously, that he had no wine to offer, and nothing better 
than a bottle of the Highland spirit called whisky. 
This Mrs. Burns placed on the table. Burns, at the 
same time, produced a punch-bowl made of Inverary 
marble ; and, mixing the spirit with sugar and water, 
filled the glasses, and invited his guests to drink. The 
travellers declared themselves in haste, and that they 
found the flavour of the whisky not very suitable to 
their palates ; but the generous poet offered them his 
best, and his ardent hospitality they found it impos- 
sible to resist. Burns w as in his happiest mood ; and 
the charms of his conversation were altogether fas- 
cinating. He ranged over a great variety of topics, 
illuminating whatever he spoke of. He related the 
tales of his infancy and youth : he recited some of the 
gayest, and some of the tenderest of liis poems.. In 
the wildest strains of mirth, he threw in occasional 
touches of melancholy, and spread around him the 
electric emotions of his powerful mind. The whisky 
improved in its flavour, the marble bowl was again and 
again emptied and replenished. The guests and the 
poet all forgot the flight of time, and the dictates of 
prudence : the travellers left him at midnight, lost 
their road in returning to Dumfi^ies, and, even when 
the morning dawned, could scarcely discern their way. 

Louisa, Entertaining as this meeting may have been 
both to Burns and his guests, I fear such late and 
dissipated hours, must have rendered him very unfit 
for business the next day. 



ROBERT BURNS. 291 

Frederic, Burns is said to have been chief!}' injured 
by the distraction of his attention between his two 
businesses of exciseman and farmer. The conse- 
quence of this was, that, notwithstanding the uni- 
form prudence and good management of Mrs. Burns, 
and though his rent was very moderate, he found it 
necessary to resign his farm after having occupied it 
about tliree years and a half. It was now his deter- 
mination to subsist on the emoluments of his office, 
which amounted to about fifty pounds a year. He 
acquitted himself so much to the satisfaction of the 
board of excise, that he was appointed to a new dis- 
trict, the emoluments of which were about twenty 
pounds a year more than those of the last. In cg^- 
sequence of this appointment he removed, in 1791, to 
Dumfries. 

Mr, Allen, It ought to be remarked that, hitherto 
Burns, though addicted to excess in social parties, 
had abstained from the habitual use of strong liquors ; 
and that his constitution had not as yet suffered any 
permanent injury from the irregularities of his conduct. 
But, in Dumfries, the temptations to dissipation con- 
tinually presenting themselves, his irregularities grew 
at length into habits. 

Sir Charles, Many allowances are to be made 
for Burns. His engagements in the excise led him 
into temptations : his great celebrity rendered him an 
object of interest and curiosity to sti^angers ; and few 
persons, of cultivated minds, passed through Dumfries, 
without attempting to see him, and enjoy the pleasure 
of his conversation. As he was unable to receive 
these under his own roof, he was invited to the inns in 
the town, and such interviews often terminated in 
excess. 

Frederic, But there was another circumstance which 
tended to the injury of Burns. This was an indepen- 
dent spirit which, in a man like him, ought, I think, 
to have been admired. 

Edmund, 'ilie spirit, which Frederic so much ad- 
o 2 



I 



292 POETS. 

mires, would probably have led him to support the 
Pretender, , and to seek the exclusion of the present 
royal family from the throne. 

Frederic. I will say then, it might have been over- 
looked or excused. But information respecting some 
unguarded expressions that he had used in private 
conversation, was sent to the board of excise, and it 
was only by the interposition of a steady and powerful 
friend that he was prevented from being totally ruined 
by the loss of his place. 

At last, in the winter of 1795, his constitution having 
been broken by disappointments, cares, and irregu- 
larities, he fell into a premature decline; and in July 
of the following year, he was seized by a fever which, 
on the fourth day of its continuance, terminated in 
death. He was then only in the thirty-eighth year of 
his age. 

Mr, Allen, Burns furnishes an instance, in addition 
to those I have mentioned of the premature death of 
a poet and a man of talent, owing, in a great degree, 
to irregularity and dissipation ; though certainly, in his 
case, many allowances are to be made, which cannot 
be claimed for most of the others. He left a widow 
and four sons, for whom a subscription was opened, 
which produced a considerable sum. This was after- 
wards augmented by the profits of a splendid edition 
of his works, printed in four volumes, and edited by 
Dr. Currie, of Liverpool. 

Lady Irwin, I think Burns, with indeed some ex- 
ceptions of coarse and indelicate sentences, a very 
delightful poet. His productions abound in humour, 
tenderness, and sublimity. Without accomplishing 
any work of extensive or complicated design, he, has 
certainly, according to my judgment, exhibited all the 
variety of poetical powers which can enter into the 
greatest works, the conduct of a plan only excepted. 
But 1 must lament that his best performances are in a 
language that is now accounted barbarous, is never 
employed in serious writing, and is gradually falling 
into disuse. 



WILLIAM COVVPER. 293 

Mr, Allen, To this it must be replied, that during 
many years of his life, that was the only language in 
which Burns was able to express himself fluently. His 
early thoughts w^ere conveyed in it, and it was en- 
deared to him by the pleasures of memory and asso- 
ciation. But many of his more serious poems are 
written in English. And, notwithstanding the inter- 
ruption of reading his Scottish poems, by the constant 
necessity of referring to a glossary, they have been 
read, studied, and admired in England, in Ireland, 
and in America, to a great extent. 



THIRTY-SEVENTH EVENING. 

After a desultory conversation, for some time, on 
various subjects connected with literary history, Ed- 
mund Irwin began the life of William Cowper, 
the poet. He said, that he had been the son of a 
clergyman of the Church of England, the rector of 
Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, and bom in that 
town, in the year 1731. He further remarked, that, 
from his infancy, Cowper had been of peculiarly 
delicate habit, both of mind and body; and that his 
mother had died when he was only six years of age. 

Lady Irwin. This loss, to such a child, must have 
been a very serious affliction indeed. Maternal atten- 
tion, during his infancy, might have tended, in a de- 
gree, at least, to counteract those nervous affections 
which, in after life, were the cause of the most melan- 
choly unhappiness to him. 

Edmund, Cowper felt the loss at this time the more 
severely, because, delicate as he was, he was taken 
immediately from the nursery, and sent to school. 

Louisa, Here I sincerely pity him. He has him- 
self related that, at this school, he had numerous 
hardships to contend with ; and that he felt these the 
more sensibly, in proportion to the tenderness with 



294 POETS. 

which he had been treated at home. But he describes 
his chief affliction to have arisen from his having been 
singled out from all the other boys, by a lad about fif- 
teen years of age, as a proper object upon whom he 
might let loose the cruelty of his Ijemper. Cowper 
does not recite any of the acts of barbarity with which 
he says this boy made it his business continually to 
persecute him ; but, in general terms, observes that, 
by his savage treatment, he had impressed such a dread 
of his figure upon his mind, that he well remembered 
being afraid to lift his eyes upon him higher than the 
boy's knees; and that he knew him by his shoe- 
buckles, better than any other part of his dress. 

Frederic, This circumstance proved so distressing 
to Cowper, that it was a considerable relief to his 
mind to be taken from the school, at eight years of 
age, on account of having specks on both his eyes, 
which threatened to cover them, and render him blind 
for ever. He was now placed, for two years, in the 
house of an oculist, but to no purpose. Thence he 
was sent to Westminster school ; where, at the age of 
fourteen, he says, the small-pox seized him, and proved 
the better oculist of the two, for it completely delivered 
his eyes from the specks, though it left them very 
tender. 

Lady Irwin, Cowper was subject to weakness and 
inflammations in his eyes, in a greater or less degree, 
all his life. 

Frederic, At the age of eighteen he was articled to 
a solicitor for three years. Concerning this period, he 
says, in one of his letters, " I did actually live three years 
with Mr. Chapman, a solicitor, that is to say, I slept 
three years in his house; but I lived, that is to say, I 
spent my days, in Southampton-row (at a relation's). 
There was I, and the future Lord Chancellor (Thur- 
low,) constantly employed, from morning to night, in 
giggling, and making giggle, instead of studying the 
law.'^ 

Mr, Allen, Yet, with all this apparent cheerfulness^ 



WILLIAM COWPER. 295 

and, with every advantage, natural and acquired, which 
might have tended to his advancement in public life, 
Cowper was afflicted with a shyness and timidity o£ 
disposition so excessive, that it restrained him from 
intercourse with any, except the society of a few 
friends, among whom he could act without restraint. 

Frederic. How distressing then must have been his 
sensations, to be compelled to prosecute his studies in a 
profession, so opposite to what his own desires miglit 
have led him to adopt. He became a student in the 
Temple ; and amused his leisure hours in writing poetry, 
and in writing occasional papers, for the Connoisseur, 
and other periodical publications. 

Sir Charles. Cowper continued in the Temple about 
t^velve years : by which time, his patrimony was much 
diminished, and he began to fear that he should never 
be able to repair the loss by a fortune of his own 
acquiring ; and to entertain some apprehension of ap- 
proaching want. 

Frederic. He might, however, have had a very 
eligiblie situation, if his extraordinary diffidence had 
not prevented iiim from filling it The place of reading 
clerk of the house of lords, became vacant, and Cowper 
was appointed to it. He was at first rejoiced in the ap- 
pointment; but, soon afterwards, the formidable danger 
of reading in public, which he considered next to that of 
speaking in public, occurred to his mind ; and he resigned 
it. Immediately after this his friends procured him the 
place of clerk of the journals of the house of lords ; 
and hopes were entertained that his personal appear- 
ance in parliament might be dispensed with. Some 
circumstances, however, occurred, which rendered it 
necessary for him to appear at the bar of the house of 
lords, there, publicly, to entitle himself to it. After a 
preparation of several months, the day at length ar- 
rived ; and no description appears equal to the agonies 
which Cowper experienced during the preceding night. 
He has detailed some particulars of attempts to destroy 
himself, which he considered to have been prevented 
hj an especial interposition of Providence. 



296 POETS, 

Edmund, In a sketch that he drew up of his own 
life, he expresses himself in these remarkable words : 
'* They, whose spirits are formed like mine, to whom 
a public exhibition of themselves is mortal poison, 
may have some idea of the horrors of my situation : 
— others can have none." His terrors, on this occasion, 
utterly overwhelmed his reason. The very friends 
who called upon him for the purpose of attending him 
to the house of lords, acquiesced in the cruel necessity 
of his relinquishing a situation so severely formidable 
to a frame of such singular sensibility. It was found 
necessary to remove Mr. Cowper to St. Alban's, where 
he resided a considerable time under the care of an 
eminent physician. 

Frederic. You speak of his malady as though it had 
seized him immediately after he had been compelled to 
resign his situation in the house of lords. But this 
does not appear to have been the case ; for, though he 
was dreadfully depressed by melancholy, he continued 
some time afterwards in London. 

Edmund, He did so ; and he has given a very dis- 
tressing account of the state of his mind during that 
period. H*e says, that " he never went into the street, 
but he thought the people stood and laughed at him, 
and held him in contempt; and that he could hardly 
persuade himself, but the voice of his conscience was 
loud enough for every one to hear it. He thought that 
those who knew him seemed to avoid him ; and that, if 
they spoke to him, they seemed to do it in scorn. He 
once bought a ballad of a person who was singing it in 
the street, because he thought it was written on himself. 
He dined alone, either at a tavern, where he went in 
the dark, or at a chop-house, where he always took 
care to hide himself in the darkest corner of the 
room. He slept generally an hour in the evening, but 
it was only to be terrified in dreams. He reeled and 
staggered like a drunken man. The eyes of men he 
could not bear ; but when he thought that the eyes of God 
were upon him,'* (which he describes himself to have 
felt assured of) " it gave him the most intolerable anguish." 



WILLIAM COWPER. 207 

Mr. Allen, The insanity of Cowper, though, per- 
haps, more immediately occasioned by the shock which 
his mind had now received, seems to have been at 
least partly induced by religious despondency. He 
had long imagined himself in a state of reprobation. 
At St. Alban's, however, he gradually recovered from 
this malady; and his mind began to receive comfort 
from religion. 

Louisa, May I interrupt you for a moment to ask 
how Mr. Cowper was now supported ; for Sir Charles 
has said that, while he was in the Temple his patrimony 
was nearly exhausted. 

Mr. Allen, He had yet part of his patrimony left, 
and he held the office of a commissioner of bankrupts ; 
but, conscious of his inability to perform the duties of 
this office, he resigned it, after he left St. Alban's, 
and thus reduced himself to an income scarcely suffici- 
ent for his maintenance. 

Edmund, From St. Alban's he went to Huntingdon. 
Here he became acquainted with the Rev. Mr. Unwin, 
and his family ; and, after a little while, was admitted 
into his house as a boarder, 

Mr. Allen. How far the routine of life at Mr. Un- 
win's may have been adapted to Cowper's pecuhar 
frame of mind, may perhaps be collected from his own 
account of it. '* We breakfast commonly between eight 
and nine," says he, in a letter to his kinswoman, Mrs. 
Cowper. '* Till eleven we read either the Scripture, 
or the sermons of some faithful preacher of those holy 
mysteries. At eleven we attend divine service, which 
is performed here twice every day; and from twelve 
to three we separate, and amuse ourselves as we please. 
During that interval, I either read in my own apart- 
ment, or walk, or ride, or work in the garden. We 
seldom sit an hour after dinner; but, if the weather 
permits, adjourn to the garden, where, with Mrs. 
Unwin and her son, I have generally the pleasure of 
religious conversation till tea-time. If it rains, or is 
too windy for walking, we either converse within doors, 
o3 



I 



298 POETS. 

or sing some hymns of Martin's collection ; and, by 
the help of Mrs. Unwin's harpsichord, make up a 
tolerable concert, in which our hearts are the best and 
most musical performers. After tea we sally forth in 
good earnest. Mrs. Unwin is a good walker, and we 
liave generally travelled above four miles before we see 
home again. When the days are short, we make this 
excursion in the former part of the day, betwixt 
church-time and dinner. At night we read, and con- 
verse as before, till supper ; and commonly finish the 
evening, either with hymns or a sermon ; and last of 
all the family are called to prayers." 

Cowper was an inmate in this family about a 
year and half, when Mr. Unwin was killed by a fall 
from his horse. In October, 1767, about three 
months after this calamity, Mrs. Unwin the widow, 
her daughter, and Cowper, removed to Olney, in 
Buckinghamshire; where they were induced to reside 
by the Rev. Mr. Newton, then the curate of that 
place, whose religious principles corresponded with 
their own. 

Si?* Charles. During his residence at Olney, the 
former malady of Cowper returned upon him. He 
sunk into such severe paroxyms of religious despon- 
dency, that he required an attendant of the most 
gentle, vigilant, and inflexible spirit. Such an attend- 
ant was Mrs Unwin, whom he professed to love as a 
mother, and who incessantly watched over him for 
nearly eight years. At length his mind broke through 
its long eclipse ; and, in the summer of 1778, he was 
sufficiently recovered to meditate the execution of 
those works which have since been so highly and 
deservedly esteemed by the public. 

Frederic, Cowper first became known as an author, 
in his fiftieth year; by the pubUcation of his first 
volume of poems. For the suggestion of hjs principal 
poem, the '' Task," printed in his second volume, he was 
indebted to Lady Austen, the widow of Sir Robert 
Austen, who, about this time, resided at Olney. 



WILLIAM COWPER. 299 

^he had requested of him to write another poem. 
Cowper complained of the difficulty of finding a sub- 
ject. Lady Austen replied, ** You can be in no want 
of a subject ; you can write upon any thing. You can 
wTite, for instance, on the subject of the sofa you 
are now lying upon." Cowper adopted the ideaj and 
though he probably at first meant his poem to be a 
mock heroic effusion, he soon left the insignificant 
object from which he started, to expatiate over the wide 
field of moral sentiment and picturesque description. 

Edmund, For the idea of the ballad of John Gilpin, 
he was indebted to the same lady. One afternoon, 
she observed Cowper more melancholy and dejected 
than usual ; and as, on such occasions, she used to try 
all the resources of her sprightly powers for his relief, 
she now told him the story of John Gilpin, which she 
had treasured in her memory from childhood. Its 
effect on the fancy of Cowper had the air of enchant- 
ment. He informed her the next morning, that con- 
vulsions of laughter, brought on by his recollection of 
her story, had kept him awake during the greatest 
part of the night, and that he had turned it into a bal- 
lad. Mrs. Unwin sent a copy of this ballad to one of 
the newspapers, where Henderson, the player, saw it, 
He, conceiving that it might display his comic powers, 
read it at Freemasons'-hall, in a course of entertain- 
ments given there. It afterwards became popular 
among all classes of readers, but was not generally 
known to be Cowper s, till it was added to his second 
volume, 

Mr, Allen, It is a somewhat singular ciixjumstance 
respecting Cowper, that dejection of spirits, which 
may have prevented many a man from becoming an 
author, made him one. He found employment neces- 
sary ; and, therefore, took care to be constantly em- 
ployed. Having tried many manual occupations, he 
did not find that these sufficiently engaged his mind ; 
but he found that composition, especially verse, ab- 
sorbed it wholly. It was, therefore, his general prac- 



300 POETS. 

tice, when in health, to write three hours every morn- 
ing; and, in an evening, to transcribe what he had 
written. 

Frederic. But Cowper's greatest literary undertaking 
was yet to appear ; I mean his translation of Homer 
into blank verse. He had, for many years, been em- 
ployed upon this work; and, in the hope of adding 
something to an income which had always been small, 
resolved to publish it by subscription. 

Edmund, While thus engaged, he removed, in No- 
vember, 1786, from Olney to Weston, about two miles 
distant ; where the house provided for him was more 
sequestered and more commodious than that in which 
he had previously lived. 

His Homer appeared in July, 1791, in two volumes 
in quarto ; and was so well received, that it was nearly 
out of print in the course of six months. 

Sir Charles, Yet, after all the labour he had em- 
ployed, and all the anxiety he had experienced 
respecting it, this work fell so short of the expectation 
that had been formed by the public, and of the perfec- 
tion which he hoped it had attained, that, instead of a 
second edition, he began, at no great distance of time, 
what may be termed a new translation. 

Mr, Allen, One of the greatest advantages which 
Cowper derived from his translation of Homer was, 
the renewed conviction, that labour of this kind was 
necessary to his health and happiness. His revisal 
of it, appears solely to have occupied his leisure 
hours, during the year 1793. At this period his 
health, his comfort, and his little fortune, were all pe- 
rishing deplorably ; and his devoted friend, Mrs. Un- 
win, was fast hastening to the grave. The consequence 
of all which seems to have been that Cowper, in tbe 
ensuing year, relapsed into a state of mental derange- 
ment. 

Sir Charles, During this, the king, through the in- 
terference of Earl Spencer, was pleased to confer 
upon him a pension to such an amount, as insured him 
an honourable competence for life. 



A\ ILLIAM COWPER. 301 

Frederic, Unfortunately, Cowper was not in a con- 
dition to appreciate the value of this favour. He was 
now, and he continued, during nearly the whole re- 
mainder of his life, in a state of the most deplorable 
melancholy. 

Edmund, In consequence of the illness both of Cow- 
per, and Mrs. Unwin, it was found desirable to remove 
them from Weston ; and they were taken to Dere- 
ham, where Mrs. Unwin died. 

Mr. Allen, At this time, he was in a state, in 
which grief is neither exasperated by melancholy, nor 
alleviated by consolation ; and he was mercifully re- 
lieved from feelings which neither religion nor reason 
could any longer regulate. Betwixt this period, and 
that of his own death, however, there were intervals 
in which he was able, with satisfaction, to apply himself 
to the revisal of his Homer. During these intervals, 
he also wrote a few original verses; and he occa- 
sionally amused himself with translations from Latin 
and Greek epigrams. The period of his own disso- 
lution at length approached. In the month of Febru- 
ary, 1800, he exhibited all the symptoms of a dropsy. 
This made a rapid progress; and, on the twenty- 
fifth of April, terminated his existence so silently, 
that, although there were no fewer than five persons in 
the room at the time, not one of them were conscious 
of the moment of his dissolution. 

His remains were interred in the church of Dere- 
ham, where a marble tablet, with an inscription wTitten 
by Mr. Hayley, was erected to his memory. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



THIRTY-EIGHTH EVENING. 

** Frederic and myself/' observed Edmund Irwin, 
""' are now desirous of introducing, in succession, a few 
individuals, eminent for genius, qualifications, and 
pursuits so various, that we are at a loss under what 
general titles to arrange them." — "^ If they are but few 
in number," replied Sir Charles *^it is scarcely worth 
the trouble of perplexing yourselves on the subject: 
let them all be discussed under one miscellaneous head." 
Edmund thanked Sir Charles for the suggestion, and 
began with the first on his list, James Crichton, a 
celebrated Scotsman, of whom, he said, so many won- 
derful things have been related, that he has received 
the appellation of '^the admirable Crichton J^ 

Frederic, For my part, I would have recommended 
the omission of this gentleman altogether. He is 
noted for so many marvellous qualifications, that I am 
somewhat inclined to consider them all as fabulous. 

Mr, Allen, Many circumstances certainly concur in 
ilirowing a suspicion over the boasted exploits of 
Crichton; but the celebrity that he has attained is 
such, that I should have been sorry if he had been 
omitted. 

Frederic, And yet, sir, notwithstanding this cele- 
brity, neither the time of his birth, nor of his death, 
are exactly known. 

Edmund, He is believed to have been born in the 
year 1560. His father was Lord Advocate of Scot- 
land, in the reign of Queen Mary, and resided at 
EUiock, in the county of Perth. His mother was a 



r 



JAMES CRICHTON. 303 

Stuart, a lineal descendant from the kings of Scot- 
land. 

Lady Irwin, Where was he educated ? 

Edmund. First at Perth, and afterwards in the 
University of St. Andrew's. There can be no doubt, 
from his very extraordinary acquirements, (unless 
with Frederic Montagu, we are to believe them fabu- 
lous) that he had excellent instructors in every branch 
of learning. By the time he was twenty years of age, 
he had attained a knowledge of all the sciences taught 
in those times; he was able to write and speak no 
fewer than ten different languages ; and had attained 
an astonishing proficiency in the accomplishments of 
fencing, riding, dancing, singing, and playing upon 
musical instruments. 

Louisa, To have effected all this, he must not only 
have been a man of gi^eat genius, but of indefatigable 
application. He must also have had a very surprising 
memory. 

Edmund. In addition to his various acquirements, 
the person and countenance of Crichton are described 
to have been eminently beautiful. 

As soon as his education was completed, he set out 
upon his travels, and first arrived in Paris. 

Frederic. Now for a commencement of the marvel- 
lous : pray what occurred there, Edmund? 

Edmund. Do not, Frederic, I pray, treat his history 
so lightly. Conscious of the superiority of his attain- 
ments, and eager to display them to the world, he 
afiixed, on the gate of the College of Navarre, a pub- 
lic challenge to all the celebrated men in Paris, to 
dispute with him, on that day six weeks, upon any 
subject connected with the arts and sciences; and in 
any of twelve languages, Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, 
Greek, Latin, French, Italian, EngUsh, Spanish, 
Dutch, Flemish, and Sclavonian. 

Louisa. Believing that such a paper could have been 
placed there only by a madman, or an impostor, I 
cannot imagine that any notice would be taken of it. 



304 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Edmund. Indeed, Louisa, you are mistaken; for no 
fewer than four doctors of the church, and fifty mas- 
ters in different sciences, prepared to enter the lists 
against him. 

Louisa, Crichton, doubtless then, must have very 
closely occupied the intervening time in preparation for 
this grand dispute. 

Edmund, No ; conscious of his superior talent, he 
passed the greater part of the time in pleasure, and 
public amusements; so as even to render himself con- 
temptible in the eyes of the students. But, on the 
day appointed for the contest, he soon redeemed his 
character. Three thousand auditors are said to have 
been present; and, after a disputation of nine hours, 
with his various opponents, he proved himself superior 
to them all. At length the president rose from his 
chair; and, after having highly extolled him for his 
many rare and excellent endowments, gave him a 
diamond ring, and a purse full of gold, in testimony 
of the favour and approbation of the college. 

So little had Crichton been fatigued with this dis- 
pute, that on the ensuing day, he attended a tilting 
match at the Louvre ; and, in the presence of some of 
the princes of the French court, carried away the ring 
fifteen times successively, and broke fifteen spears in 
striking a sort of mark called the Saracen. 

Frederic, Oh! he was a prodigy in all the species 
of manly as well as mental exercises 1 In fencing, 
he could use the sword with equal dexterity in either 
his right or left hand : nay, we are told he could 
spring, at one bound, the length of twenty feet, and in 
that act, instantly disarm his antagonist ! 

Edmund. Frederic, I know, is perfectly incredulous 
respecting the proficiencies of Crichton ; but I cannot 
accord with him. 

From Paris, this extraordinary man went to Rome ; 
where he fixed a placard on all the most public parts 
of that city (famous for its scholastic learning), that he 
would reply to any question proposed to him, without 



JAMES CRICHTON. 305 

his being previously informed what the question 
should be. He appeared at the time and place ap- 
pointed ; and, in the presence of the pope, and many 
of the cardinals, bishops, doctors of divinity, and pro- 
fessors in various sciences, displayed such wonderful 
proofs of knowledge, that he excited here no less sur- 
prise than he had done in Paris. 

Frederic, So says your account, Edmund. But 
Boccalini, an Italian satirist, who was then at Rome, 
informs us, that Crichton was there ridiculed as an em- 
piric, and left the city in disgust. 

Edmund, The assertion of Boccalini, I believe, to 
have been occasioned solely by envy. 

Crichton's next exhibition was at Venice, where he 
wrote a poem in praise of that city. This poem he 
afterwards presented to the Venetian literati. He 
also made a brilliant speech to the doge, and con- 
ducted several disputations, on literary subjects, with 
his usual success. From Venice he went to Padua. 
In the university there, which was then in the highest 
reputation, Crichton engaged in another literary con- 
test. He began with an extemporaneous poem in 
praise of the place and of his auditors ; and, after 
having disputed six hours, with the most celebrated 
professors, whom he foiled on every subject, he con- 
cluded with — 

Frederic. An unpremeditated poem in commenda- 
tion of ignorance ! This must have been a very pretty 
terminating compliment to his opponents, as well as 
to the university that had educated them. 

Edmund. Whatever it may have been, we are led to 
TUiderstand that it was conducted with such ingenuity 
and elegance, as to have astonished all his hearers. 

The next account we have of Crichton, records an 
extraordinary instance of bodily skill and courage. 
There was at that time, in Mantua, a gladiator who, 
during his travels, had defeated nearly all the most 
celebrated fencers of Europe ; and had lately killed, in 
Mantua, three persons who had entered the lists with 



306 MISCELLANEOUS. 

him. Tlie duke began to regret that he had grated 
protection to this murderer. Crichton, informed of 
this, was fired with the ambition of ridding the world 
of so sanguinary a monster, and challenged him to 
fight for a purse of fifteen hundred pistoles. The 
challenge was accepted ; and, every thing being pre- 
pared, the combat was exhibited before the assembled 
court, and an immense concourse of spectators. At 
the commencement, Crichton stood only on the defen- 
sive ; while his adversary made his attack with such 
eagerness and fury, that, having over exerted himself, 
he began to be weary. Crichton noAv seized the op- 
portunity of attacking him in return. This he did 
with so much vigour and dexterity, that he ran him 
through tlie body in three different places ; and of these 
wounds lie immediately died. Crichton then generously 
divided the money which he had won, among the 
widows of the three individuals whom the prize-fighter 
had slain. 

Louisa. I hope the Duke of Mantua was grateful 
for this service. 

Edmund. Astonished at the singular qualities, both 
of body and mind, which he had witnessed in this extra- 
ordinary man, he appointed him preceptor to his son. 

Frederic, In return for which appointment, and to 
contribute to the amusement of his patrons, Crichton 
is said to have written a comedy, satirizing the various 
professions in which men are engaged; and to have 
himself acted fifteen characters of his own play. 
Really, Edmund, you must not expect me to believe 
all this. 

Edmund, Such, however, has certainly been related 
of him, and by persons whose veracity has not gene- 
rally been doubted. The time was now approaching 
in which it was proved that, with all his endowments, 
Crichton was no more than mortal. One night, during 
the carnival, as he was walking along the streets of 
Mantua, playing upon a guitar, he was assailed by 
several persons in masks. Having repelled their at- 



JAMES CRICHTON. 307 

tacks, and disarmed tlieir leader, the latter pulled off 
his mask, and begged his life, as being the prince his 
pupil. On this discovery, Crichton fell on his knees, 
apologized for his mistake, and assured the prince 
that, if he had any design upon his life, he might take 
it whenever he pleased. He then took his own sword 
by the point, and presented it to the prince. This 
cowardly youth, irritated by the imaginary affront he 
had received, seized it, and barbarously stabbed him 
to the heart. The precise period of this event is not 
known ; but it is generally believed to have taken place 
in the month of July, 1583, and in about the twenty- 
third year of his age. 

Frederic, And can you imagine, Edmund, that all 
the surprising occurrences that you have mentioned, 
took place in the course of so short a time ? 

Edmund, I certainly can see nothing very improba- 
ble in them. 

Mr. Allen, That such a person as Crichton actually 
existed, we cannot doubt ; and there is equal evidence 
that he was a youth of such accomplishments, as to 
have excited great present admiration, and high expec- 
tation with respect to his future attainments. He had, 
doubtless, a fine person, was very adroit in bodily 
exercises, possessed a peculiar facility in learning lan- 
guages, and enjoyed a quick and retentive memory : 
he may also have excelled in the power of declama- 
tion, and in readiness of reply. But we must recol- 
lect that it was no very difficult matter to astonish the 
learned pedants of the sixteenth century. He left 
behind him some literary productions, and these ex- 
hibit no marks either of genius or of taste. We 
may, therefore, consider the encomiums that have 
been bestowed upon him as certainly exaggerated; 
but, even with every due allowance for exaggerated 
praise, he must be considered one of the most accom- 
plished youths that our country has ever produced. 



008 MISCELLANEOUS^ 



THIRTY-NINTH EVENING. 

In reference to the discussion which, on the preceding 
evening, had taken place respecting the singular attain- 
ments of James Crichton, Edmund Irwin said he was 
convinced that a retentive memory was as requisite 
to great proficiencj' , either in science or literature, as 
intense application. This induced a digression, re- 
specting persons who had been remarkable for the 
strength of their memories. Bishop Jewel was again 
spoken of. Frederic mentioned Mithridates, King of 
Pontus, who, he said, ruled over twenty-four nations, 
and was acquainted with all their languages ; and 
Quintus Hortensius, the Roman orator, whose powers 
of mind were such that, having attended a whole day 
at an auction, he was able, at night, to recapitulate every 
article that had been sold, together with the prices, and 
the names of the purchasers in their proper order, with- 
out a single error. Sir Charles Irwin spoke of Lipsius, 
a French critic of the sixteenth century, who could 
recite the whole history of Tacitus. 

^' These examples," observed Mr. Allen, ^' are all, 
no donbt astonishing, but what has been related of 
Jedidiah Buxton, an illiterate English labourer, 
appears to me to exceed them all." 

Frederic, Edmund, and Miss Irwiri, all united in 
requesting that Mr. Allen would oblige them with some 
account of so extraordinary a person. He took from 
Sir Charles's library the fifty-first, fifty-third, and 
fifty-fourth volumes of the Gentleman's Magazine, to 
aid him in his narration, and proceeded as follows : 

'' The grandfather of Jedidiah Buxton was a 
clergyman, and liis father a schoolmaster in the 
village of Elmeton, near Chesterfield, in Derbyshire ; 
where Jedidiah himself was born, about the year 1704. 
It is singular that, notwithstanding the profession of 
his father, the education of Jedidiah should have 
been so totally neglected, that he was never able either 
to read or write. 



JEDIDIAH BUXTON. 80$^ 

'* How he came first to know the relative propor- 
tions of numbers, their denominations, and powers, 
he could never remember; but, through life, his con- 
stant attention was fixed upon these; and he scarcely 
ever took notice of external objects, except with regard 
to their numbers. If any space of time was mentioned 
in his presence, he would, soon afterwards, say that it 
contained so many minutes ; if any distance, he would 
assign the number of lengths of barley-corns, or hair- 
breadths in it, even when no question was asked him. 
His power of abstraction was so great, tha.t no noise 
whatever could disturb him; and, when asked any 
question, he would immediately reply, and return to 
his calculation without the least confusion, or the loss 
of more time than the answer required. 

'' By his constant application to figures, Jedidiahhad 
stored up, in his mind, several common products, to 
which he could have immediate recourse when neces- 
sary. These were the number of minutes in a year, 
of hair-breadths in a mile, and many others. When 
he once comprehended a question, he began to work 
with amazing facility: millions upon millions, tribes, 
cramps, and so on (for by these terms he enumerated 
his long series of numbers), were as plain and familiar 
to him, as pounds, shillings, and pence, are to other 
people. 

** He would suffer two persons to propose different 
questions to him to be solved at the same time; and 
he would give to each his answer, without the least 
confusion. He would even recollect and repeat the 
answers a month or two afterwards. Indeed, his me- 
mory was so great that, he could leave off, and reas- 
sume the operation at the end of a week, a month, 
or at the end even of several months. He could call 
his figures all by their proper names, and was ready 
at naming them either backward or forward. 

" His method of working was peculiar to himself, 
and was by no means either the shortest, or simplest 
that could have been devised. An example of it may 
afford you some amusement. 



310 MISCELLANEOLS. 

" Being requested to multiply 456, by 378, and 
to work it audibly, he proceeded thus. He first 
multiplied 456 by 5, which produced 2280; this he 
again multiplied by 20, and found the product to be 
45,600 ; which was the 456 that had been proposed to 
him multiplied by 100. This product iie multiplied by 
3, which produced 136,800, or 456 multiplied by 300. 
It remained to multiply the last product by 78. To 
effect this, he multiplied 2280, (the product of 456 by 
5) by 15, because 5 times 15 are 75; this product 
being 34,200, he added to the 136,800 (the product of 
456 by 300) which produced 171,000, or 375 times 
456. To complete the operation, he multiplied 456 
by 3, which produced 1368 ; and, having added this 
number to 171,000, he found that the whole product 
required was 172,368. 

'' It thus appears that Jedidiah's method of arith- 
metic was entirely his own ; and that he was so little 
acquainted with common rules, as to multiply 456 
first by 5, and the product of that by 20, to find what 
sum it would produce multiplied by 100; whereas, had 
he added two cyphers to the figures, he would imme- 
diately have obtained the product. 

"A person who had heard of Jedidiah's astonishing 
performances, was accidentally in company with him ; 
and, desirous of trying his calculating powers, proposed 
to him the following question. In a body whose three 
sides measure 23,145,789 yards, 5,642 732 yards, and 
54,965 yards, how many cubical eighths of an inch 
are there? After having distinctly named the several 
figures, to assure himself of the dimensions, this self- 
taught calculator commenced his operation. The pro- 
poser of the question left him for about five hours. 
He then returned, and found Jedidiah re^dy with his 
answer, which was perfectly correct, though it occupied 
a line of twenty-eight figures. 

'* Another person proposed to him the following: 
admit a field to be 423 yards long, and 383 yards 
wide, what is its area? After the figures had been 



I 



JEDIDIAH BUXTON. 311 

read to him distinclly, he gave the answer, 162,009 
yards. This was done in two minutes, the proposer 
having noted the length of the o|>eration hy his watch. 
The same person asked him how many acres the same 
field measured ? and, in eleven minutes, he replied 33 
acres, 1 rood, 35 perches, 20 yards and a quarter. 
He was then asked, how manv barley-corns would 
reach eight miles? In a minute and half, he replied, 
1,520,640 barley-corns. He was asked, supposing the 
distance between York and London to be 204 miles, 
how many times will a coach wheel turn round in that 
space, allowing the circumference of the wheel to be 
six yards '! In thirteen minutes he answered, 59,840 
times. The next proposition was, if a tub or bin be 
346 inches long 256 inches wide, and 94 inches deep, 
how many gallons of liquid measure, will it hold ; and 
what quantity of corn ? His answer was, 3,454,464 solid 
inches, or 1,768,685,568 half quarters of solid inches, 
making 12,249,872 gallons liquid measure, or 12,249, 
gallons, 3 quarts, and 34 J inches. He said that it 
would hold 191 quarters, 3 bushels, 3 quarterns, and 
a half quartern, with a small remainder. He was then 
asked, suppose a canal is to be dug 426 feet long, 263 
feet wide, and two feet and half deep, how many 
cubical yards of earth must be removed ? After pausing 
a quarter of an hour, he answered 10,373 yards 24 
feet. 

" He told the person who proposed these questions, 
that, from the seventeenth of May, 1725, to the six- 
teenth of June following, he was drunk with reckoning 
by his memory, after which he said he slept soundly 
for seven hours ; but he added that, he would never 
again attempt so much, for fear of falling into a similar 
disagreeable situation. What he meant by being 
drunk was, that his senses were so mu(^h stupified as 
to render him for some time afterwards, incapable of 
his usual labour, or, indeed, of any business whatever. 
That this should have been the case will not appear 
wonderful, when we consider the question that engaged 



*dV2 MISCELLANEOUS. 

his attention. It was this : in 202,680,000,460 miles, 
and each mile reckoned to be cubical, how many bar- 
ley-corns, vetches, peas, wheat, oats, rye, beans, lintels, 
and hairs, each an inch long, would, respectively, fill 
that space, reckoning 48 hairs in breadth to measure 
an inch, on the flat? 

" He was desired, by another person, to multiply 
thirty-six figures by the same thirty-six figures ; which 
he did correctly. He was then asked, how many square 
yards were contained in Europe, on a given dimension 
of miles : this he also performed with great exactness. 
Jedidiah calculated the number of square hair-breadths 
that were contained in the parish of Balfour, in Der- 
byshire. But the question which exercised all his facul- 
ties, and was, as he declared, the hardest he had ever 
met with, was this, "What dimensions must be given 
to a joiner, to make a cubical bin, that shall hold just 
a quarter of malt Winchester measure ?" Jedidiah sat 
down in intense thought : ** there were," he said, '' many 
nooks in it, but he would sift them about." He was 
surrounded by persons who did not cease from talking, 
but he sate regardless of every thing, except his pot 
of beer. He received no hints nor assistance of any 
kind ; and, after about an hour, he said, it ought to be 
made a little more than twenty-five inches and three- 
quarters on each side, and that twenty-six inches 
would be too much; which was perfectly correct. 
This difficulty shows that he had never applied his 
thoughts to cube root. 

" When any one asked Jedidiah to calculate a ques- 
tion, he would sit down, take off* his old brown hat, 
and, resting upon his stick, which was generally a 
very crooked one, would set to work. All his exer- 
tions were those of his mind, for he never used a pen, 
chalk, nor any kind of marks. Sometimes he ha« 
been known to omit the cyphers in his calculations. 
This consequently deranged the whole of the other 
figures. He would then seem much displeased with 
himself; but, putting the fore-finger of his right hand 



JEDIDIAH BUXTON. -Mo 

into the palni of the left, he never failed, after a little 
while, to set himself right. 

*' He believed himself able to recollect what quan- 
tity of ale and strong beer he had drank, at free cost, 
since he was twelve years of age; the places where, 
and the number of pints at each house. The whole 
amount, at a particular time that he mentioned, was 
five thousand one hundred and sixteen pints. 

** This extraordinary man would stride over a piece 
of land, and tell the contents of it with as much 
exactness, as if it had been regularly measured. In 
this manner he measured the whole lordship of Elme- 
ton, comprising several thousand acres ; and he brought 
the contents, not only into acres, roods, and perches, 
but even into square inches. After this he reduced 
them, for his own amusement, into square hair-breadths, 
computing forty-eight to each side of an inch, which 
produced a most incomprehensible number. 

'• The only objects of Jedidiah's curiosity, except 
figures, were the king and royal family ; and his desire 
to see them was so strong, that, in the beginning of 
the spring, 1754, he walked to London for that pur- 
pose ; but was obliged to return disappointed, as his 
majesty had removed to Kensington, just as Jedidiah 
arrived. He was, however, introduced to the Royal 
Society, whom, in his country dialect, he called the 
'' Volk of the siety court." The gentlemen wlio were 
present asked him several questions in arithmetic, all of 
which he answered; and they dismissed him vsdth a 
handsome gi'atuity. 

'' During his residence in London, he was taken to 
see the tragedy of King Richard the Third, performed 
at Drury-lane Theatre; and, it was expected, that the 
novelty of every thing in this place, together with the 
splendour of the surrounding objects, would have 
fixed him in astonishment, or that his passions would 
have been, in some degree, roused by the action of 
the performers, even if he did not fully comprehend 
the dialogue. But in the playhouse Jedidiah's thoughts 



314 MISCELLANEOUS. 

were still employed on figures. During the dance."^, 
his attention was engaged in reckoning the number of 
steps. After a fine piece of music, lie declared, that 
the innumerable sounds perplexed him beyond mea- 
sure. With respect to the acting of Mr. Garrick, 
Jedidiah was only occupied in counting the number 
of words that he uttered during the whole entertain- 
ment; and, in this, he afterwards affirmed that he had 
perfectly succeeded. 

^' Jedidiah was a married man, and had several 
children; but whether any of these inherited their 
father's peculiar talent for figures is not known. He 
lived to the age of about seventy years, but the exact 
time of his death has not been mentioned." 

Edmund. The abilities of this man were certainly 
very extraordinary. What a pity it is that proper 
attention was not paid to cultivate his mind in his 
youth ; he might then, instead of having been a mere 
calculator of curious arithmetical problems, have been 
qualified to fill some highly distinguished and useful 
.situation in life. 

Mr, Allen. His whole time was passed in laborious 
poverty. Born to no fortune, and brought up to no 
particular profession, he supported himself entirely 
by labour. His manners and dress were extremely 
simple. He usually wore a linen or woollen cap on 
his head, and a handkerchief carelessly thrown round 
his neck. 

Lady Irwin. At what period of life was it that his 
astonishing powers of calculation were first ascer- 
tained ? 

Mr. Allen. When he was a young man, and worked 
as a labourer, in the gardens of the late Duke of King- 
ston, at Thoresby, in Nottinghamshire. The prin- 
cipal gardener, a man well versed in figures, was told, 
by the fellow labourers of Jedidiah, that, although he 
was unable either to read or \yrite, he could work 
many difiicult sums of arithmetic in his head. In 



JEDIDIAH BUXTON. 31-j 

consequence of this the gardener was induced to try 
him ; and from his report it was that the abilities of 
Jedidiah were originally made public. 

Lady Invin, I am surprised that the consciousness 
of his own abilities, added to the flattering notice that 
was taken of him by persons of rank and eminence, 
did not render him discontented with his station, par- 
ticularly after his visit to the metropolis. 

Mr. Allen. Though endowed with powers of mind 
which raised him far above his humble companions, 
yet anibi lions thoughts do not, at any time, appear to 
have interrupted his repose. Even on his return from 
London, he did not regret the loss of any thing he had 
left behind him. Fully satisfied with his rustic fare, 
and his own humble condition, he despised the luxuries 
of the great; and, while it was liis chief pleasure to 
exercise his mind by calculation, he was still of opi- 
nion that a slice of rusty bacon afforded a delicious 
repast, and that a flock bed w^as a most comfortable 
place of repose. 



FORTIETH EVENING. 

Frederic, addressing himself to Mr. Allen, said, 
*' Last night, sir, you amused us Tvdth some particulars 
relati\e to the life of a very remarkable self-taught 
arithmetician : Edmund Irwin and myself have been 
read ng the memoirs of an uneducated man, whose 
genius for mechanical contrivances was as surprising 
as thai of Jedidiah Buxton for arithmetical calcula- 
tions; and, what is of more importance, has proved 
of permanent utility to the public." Miss Irwin 
eagerly enquired who this was. After Mr. Allen's 
account of Jedidiah Buxton she had been desirous 
of speaking of a man noted for his singular mechanical 
acquirements, and was fearful that Frederic had antici- 
pated her design. Her fears, however, were imme- 
p 2 



316 MISCELLANEOUS. 

diately removed, by his stating that the person to whom 
he alluded was James Brindlfy, a native of Tun- 
stead, in the parish of Wormhill, Derbyshire; and 
that he had been a contemporary of Jedidiah Buxton, 
but about twelve years younger than he. To an in- 
quiry made by Lady Irwin, relative to the parents of 
this person, Frederic replied, that his father had 
possessed a little freehold, but, that he gradually dis- 
sipated all his property by a fondness for shooting, 
and other field sports; and by keeping company with 
persons above his own rank in life. 

Mr, Allen, That is, by entering into expenses, and 
indulging in pursuits, to which, he ought to have 
known, his means were not equal. Instances of this 
are too common. But what was the consequence as 
to his son ? it must have been attended with some bad 
effects to him. 

Frederic, The boy was so totally neglected, that 
he did not receive even the ordinary rudiments of 
education. He was compelled to labour for his own 
subsistence, as well as to contribute towards sup- 
porting the necessities of his family, at a time when 
he ought to have been employed in acquiring the ele- 
ments of future improvement in letters or in science. 
Until he was nearly seventeen years of age, he was 
occupied in those kinds of labour which, in country 
places, are usually assigned to the children of the 
poor. He was then placed as apprentice to a mill- 
wright ; and he soon became expert in that business. 

Mr, Allen, When a young man, Brindley is said 
to have never been idle. 

Edmund. I believe he seldom was, sir ; for, although, 
in the early part of his apprenticeship, he was fre- 
quently left, during many successive weeks, to execute 
works that his master had gi\en him instructions to 
prepare, these works he always punctually finished. 
Indeed so strong was his attachment to the mechanic 
arts, and so great became his skill in them, that his 
master was often astonished by the improvement 



JAMES BRINDLEY. 317 

Mliieli, from time to time, Brindley introduced into 
the mill-wrigiit business. 

Lady Irwin, Tliis must have gained him much 
credit in the neighbouriiood, and eventually, no doubt, 
must have been ot* great service to him. 

Edmund. Such was the case. All the millers were 
desirous of having their work done by him rather than 
by either his master, or any other workman. 

Frederic, A singular instance has been recorded of 
Brindley's active and earnest attention to the improve- 
ment of mill-work. His master, having been employed 
to constinict an engine paper-mill, the first of the kind 
that had been attempted in that part of the country, 
went to see one at work, as a model to copy after. 
Notwithstanding this, when he began to prepare the 
machinery, it was soon evident that he wanted talent 
to complete it. Brindley, sensible that he could not 
depend on his master for proper instructions, deter- 
mined to visit the mill himself. Having finished his 
business one Saturday evening, he set out, travelled 
fifty miles on foot, viewed the millj and returned in 
time for his work on Monday morning. He informed 
his master in what particulars he had been deficient, 
and himself completed the engine, to the entire satis- 
faction of his employers. 

Louisa, That was admirable ! though I think his 
master might have better spared him some other day 
for inspecting the mill than on Sunday. He should 
have taught him a due respect for the Sabbath. 

3Ir, Allen. It does not appear that the master had 
been informed of his intention of visiting the mill; 
it is said that Brindley did not previously mention the 
design to any one. 

Louisa. I am very anxious to hear how Mr. Brind- 
ley succeeded after the term of his apprenticeship 
expired. 

Frederic, He then engaged in the business of a 
mill-wright on his own account ; and, by many useful 
inventions, advanced it to a higher degree of perfec- 



318 MISCELLANEOUS. 

tion than it had ever before attained. The conse- 
quence of this was, that his talents gradually became 
known even in distant parts; and he was employed, 
at different times, to erect some very extraordinary 
engines. 

Edmund, His biographer states that, in particular, 
he erected a water engine at Clifton, in Lancashire, 
by which he obtained a very high degree of reputation. 
The intention of this engine was to drain the water 
from some coal mines, which had before been worked 
at an enormous expense. The water, for the use of the 
engine, was conveyed from the river Irwell, by a 
subterraneous channel, nearly six hundred yards in 
length. This was cut through a solid rock, and the 
water wheel was fixed thirty yards below the surface 
of the ground. After this Mr. Brindley erected, at 
Congleton, in Cheshire, a silk mill, more complete 
than any work of the kind that had ever before been 
attempted ; and the potteries of Staffordshire were 
indebted to him for several important improvements 
in the mills there used for the grinding of flint stones. 
In the year 1756, he undertook to erect a steam- 
engine, on a new plan, near Newcastle-under-Line. 
But it would be an endless task to speak of all the 
useful contrivances in machinery, that were effected 
by the inventive genius of Brindley. These would 
have been more extensive than they were, had not his 
attention, about this time, been called to another ob- 
ject, which, in its consequences, has proved of the 
highest national importance. 

Louisa, What was that, Edmund ? 

Edmund, The projecting and executing of canals 
for inland navigation, whence inestimable benefits have 
arisen to trade and commerce. 

iSir Charles, It was a happy circumstance, both for 
Brindley and his country, that he was contemporary 
with a nobleman, the Duke of Bridgewater, whose 
scientific attainments and liberality were as distin- 
guished as his rank. 



JAMES BRINDLEY. 319 

Frederic, The duke had, at Worsley, about seven 
miles from Manchester, a large estate, rich with mines 
of coal. These had lain useless, solely from the 
expense of carriage. Mr. Brindley, who had become 
famous for his mechanical inventions, was consulted 
as to the possibility of cutting a canal, for the purpose 
of facilitating the conveyance of coals from these 
mines to Manchester. After an attentive survey, he 
pronounced the work, though difficult, to be practicable. 
The plan that was finally proposed, and for the execu- 
tion of which an act of parliament was obtained in 
1759, was to carry the canal over the river Irwell, near 
a place called Barton Bridge, to Manchester. After 
many difficulties had been surmounted, of sufficient 
magnitude to have deterred an ordinary man from the 
undertaking, the great labour remained: this was to 
carry the canal over the river, and at the height of 
thirty-nine feet above it. Though Brindley was con- 
fident of the practicability of this design, he wished 
his grace to take the opinion of some able engineer 
before the attempt was made. 

Lady Irwin, And what, Frederic, was the opinion 
given ? 

Frederic, A gentleman was consulted. He replied 
that the scheme deserved no deliberation ; that ** he 
had often heard of castles in the air, but was never 
before shown where any of them were to be erected." 

Lady Irwin, This, I fear, must have operated as a 
discouragement of the undertaking. 

Frederic, It does not appear to have so operated; 
for neither Brindley's resolutions, nor the duke's con- 
fidence in him, were at all shaken by it. The aque- 
duct was begun in September, 1760, and in July 
following, the first boat floated along it. 

Louisa. I have been informed that the Duke of 
Bridgewater's canal passed under ground for a con- 
siderable distance: you have not said any thing of 
that. 

Edmund, Frederic has omitted it. The subter- 



ii2() MISCELLANEOUS. 

vaiieous tunnel to which you allude, is about three- 
quarters of a mile in length, and commences near 
Worsley-mill. It is sufficiently wide to admit the 
passage of long flat-bottomed boats ; which are towed 
by hand-rails on each side, to the coal-works. 

Mr, Allen. In some places the canal is continued, 
by arches, over public roads; and, where there is not 
sufficient height for a carriage, the road is lowered 
with a gentle descent, and ascends on the other side. 

Louisa, It must appear very strange to see a boat 
pass along a canal, while waggons and horses are 
crossing it by a road underneath. 

Frederic, Or, as at the river Irwell, to see a boat 
drawn along the aqueduct, at the height of thirty feet 
above another boat, which is floating in the river. In 
consequence of the success of this undertaking, the 
remainder of Mr. Brindley's life was chiefly employed 
in making surveys, and laying out canals. 

Edmund, The most remarkable of all his under- 
takings appears to me to have been that which he 
called the Grand Trunk Navigation. This canal was 
conducted through a space of ninety-three miles, from 
the Trent to the Mersey; and thereby united the ports 
of Liverpool and Hull, the Irish sea with the Ger- 
man Ocean. It was completed in eleven years, was 
furnished with seventy-six locks, and conducted, by 
tunnels under ground, through five hills, one of which 
is 2880 yards in lengtli, and upwards of seventy yards 
below the surface of the earth. 

Sir Charles, The counties of Durham, Westmore- 
land, Lancaster, York, Chester, Stafford, Worcester, 
Warwick, Somerset, Devon, Hants, and Oxford, have 
all derived improvement and advantages, either from 
Mr. Brindley's surveys, plans, or superintendence of 
inland navigations. He was, on this subject, the 
greatest enthusiast that ever existed. Do you recollect 
an answer that he once gave respecting the utility of 
rivers ? 

Edmund and Frederic, No, sir. 



JAMES BRlNDLfeY. 321 

Sir Charles. He was summoned before a committee 
'1 the house of commons, to be examined concerning 
some particulars relative to riv ers ; being asked, by one 
of the members, for what purpose he imagined rivers 
iiad been created? He considered a little while before 
he answered, and at last replied, ** To feed navigable 
canals." 

Lady Irwin. From the account you have given, it 
appears that Mr. Brindley's peculiar talents were, if 
possible, more remarkable than those of Jedidiah 
Buxton. You have said, that he was an mieducated 
man. 

Edmund, Some persons have asserted that he could 
neither read nor write. 

Mr. Allen. This is not true. He could certainly do 
both; though his writing extended to little more than 
a few occasional letters, and his reading appears to 
have been nearly as circumscribed as his writing. 

Louisa. How then could he have formed his plans? 

Frederic. By the exertion of his mental powers 
alone. When any extraordinary difficulty occurred, 
he generally retired to bed ; and he has been known 
to lie there one, two, and even three days, till he has 
attained the object in view . He would then get up, 
and execute his design; and, unless bis employers 
wished to see his plans delineated on paper, he always 
completed the work without either drawing or model. 
His memory, which was astonishingly retentive, and 
was never taught to distrust itself, and commit its 
possessions to paper, was in no danger of suffering 
any link in his mechanical arrangement to escape. 
Of this he was, from experience, so confident, that he 
has often declared, he could remember and execute, 
all die parts of the most complex machine, provided 
he had time, in the survey of it, to settle in his mind, 
the several departments, and their relations to each 
other. 

Edmund. There is reason to suppose that the intense 
application of Mr. Brindley to the various important 
' P 3 



o22 MISCELLANEOUS. 

undertakings he had in hand, operated, at last, with so 
much injury to his constitution, as to bring on a hectic 
fever. This continued for some years, and, at length, 
terminated his life, on the twenty-seventh of Septem- 
ber, 1772, and in the fifty-sixth year of his age. 

Lady Irwin. He must have left many vast works 
incomplete. What became of these after his death? 

Edmund, They were carried on and finished by his 
brother-in-law, Mr. Henshall ; for whom he had- always 
expressed a particular regard, and of whose integrity 
and abilities, in conducting such works, he had the 
highest opinion. Among them was the completion of 
the Grand Trunk Navigation ; for Mr. Brindiey died 
about five years after it had been begun. 



FORTY-FIRST EVENING. 

** Now," said Edmund Irwin, ^^ it is my turn, to pro- 
pose for discussion the life of a man of extraordinary 
genius." Miss Irwin, who, as already related, had 
been desirous of herself reciting some particulars 
relative to the life of a person wlio had been noted 
for extensive mechanical attainments, was again in 
alarm. ^' I do not pretend," continued Edmund, 
^' that the person of whom I am about to speak, was, 
like Brindle . , a man wholly uneducated. His father, 
having been an attorney in considerable practice, was 
enabled to afford him a respectable education." The 
fears of Miss Irwin, on hearing this, were again 
allayed. It was evident that her brother's description 
could not apply to the person whose life she had been 
contemplating. She, however, anxiously inquired 
who it was to whom he alluded? '' To John Smea- 
TON," he replied, '' the projector of many useful 
public works, but chiefly celebrated for having con- 
structed a magnificent lighthouse, on the Eddystone- 
rock, in the English Channel." 



JOHN SMEATON. 323 

Sir Charles, Where, and when was he born, Ed- 
mund ? 

Edmund, He was born at Austhorpe, a village, near 
-Leeds, in Yorkshire, in the year 1724. During his 
childhood his whole delight Avas in mechanical amuse- 
ments. Instead of playing with other boys, he chose 
to occupy his time with workmen's tools; and he 
made many infantine machines even while in petti- 
coats. This turn was the more remarkable, as he can- 
not be supposed to have derived it from objects that 
were placed before him at that early period. 

Frederic, While still a boy, we are told that he 
often surprised, and occasionally alarmed his friends, 
by mechanical efforts altogether disproportioned to his 
years. Sometimes he would be seen on the top of 
a building, erecting a mill; and sometimes at the side 
of a well, employed in the construction of a pump. 

Louisa, Was he, in consequence of this decidedly 
mechanical turn, brought up to the business of an en- 
gineer ? 

Edmund, No : he appears to have been articled as 
a clerk to his father, and to have served the whole 
term of his clerkship with him ; but his mind, not- 
withstanding this, was incessantly bent on mechanical 
studies. His leisure hours were occupied in pur- 
suits wholly foreign to the profession of the law. A 
visitor at his father's house, in the year 1742, describes 
him, then at the age of eighteen, as a complete artificer, 
** He forged," says this gentleman, *' his own iron and 
steel, and melted his own metal. He had tools of 
every sort for working in wood, ivory, and metals. 
He had made a lathe, by which he had cut a perpetual 
screw in brass, a thing litde known at that day." His 
father, however, persevered in his legal education; 
and, in due time, sent him to Londcm to attend the 
courts at Westminster. But the young man, sensible 
that he could never obtain success in the law, wrote 
to his father so strong a memorial on the subject, that 
he was thenceforward allowed to pursue the path which 
nature had pointed out to him. 



S24 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Louisa, What were now his plans and pursuits ? 

Edmund, He had lodgings in Turnstile, Holboni; 
and, about the year 1750, commenced business, as a 
maker of mathematical and philosophical instruments. 
In the following year he invented a machine for mea- 
suring a ship's way at sea. He also communicated 
plans of several ingenious mechanical inventions to 
the Royal Society, and was elected a member of that 
body when about twenty-nine years of age. 

Frederic, Mr. Smeaton made several improvements 
in water-mills, wind-mills, and other machines. After 
a long course of experiments he ascertained, in a satis- 
factory manner, that wind and water could do at least 
one-third more than had before been known. In 1754 
he travelled into Holland, for the purpose of informing 
himself respecting the improvements that had been 
introduced into mechanics, in that country. By intense 
study he fitted himself for the profession which he 
afterwards followed, that of a civil engineer;' and, in 
this particular branch, he exhibited the most extraor- 
dinary talents. 

Louisa, My brother has said, that the Eddy stone 
lighthouse was constructed by Mr. Smeaton. It will 
give me much pleasure to hear the account of his 
engagement in that building. I have often seen it 
from the ramparts at Plymouth. It is on an insulated 
rock, in the open sea, about fourteen miles from the 
shore. 

Mr. Allen, There are so many important particulars 
connected with this lighthouse, anterior to Mr, Smea- 
ton's engagement in it, that although, by so doing, we 
shall be led a little while from his history, I must 
request permission to relate to you a few of them. 

The first lighthouse that was erected on the Eddy- 
stone rock, was constructed under the direction of a 
gentleman whose name was Winstanley. He was a 
man of singular character, and had previously distin- 
guished himself by a peculiar turn for mechanics. 
He commenced the work in 1696, and completed it in 
about four years. The structure that he formed was 



JOHN SMEATON. 32.> 

about eighty feet high. Notwithstanding this great 
elevation, so tremendous are sometimes the storms in 
this part of the sea, that the waves have been known 
to break more than a hundred feet over the top of the 
building ; and at times the sea has covered more than 
half the side of the house as if it were under water. 
Three years after this building was completed, it wanted 
some repairs; and Mr. Winstanley went to Plymouth 
to superintend them. Previously to his going off with 
the workmen, some of his friends intimated to him a fear 
that the building could not long withstand the dreadful 
storms, to w^hich, from its exposed situation, it was 
subject. This presumptuous man replied, ''he was so 
well assured of its stability, that he should only wish 
to be in it during the most dreadful storm that ever 
blew under the heavens ; that he might see what effect 
it would have." He w as too fatally gratified in this 
presumptuous wish ; for while he was there, with his 
workmen and the light-keepers, on the twenty-sixth of 
November, 1703, one of the most tremendous storms 
began that has ever been known in Great Britain. 
On the follow'ing day, when its violence was some- 
wdiat abated, many persons went anxiously to look 
out for the lighthouse ; but not a fragment of it was 
left. Not one of the unfortunate people was ever 
afterwards seen. It was conjectured that the building 
was overset altogether ; and that, in its fall, it had even 
torn up a portion of the rock itself, as far as the irons 
had been fastened into it. 

Thus, unhappily, perished both Mr. Winstanley and 
his building. So long, however, as it had stood, its 
utility had been found incalculably great ; and, conse- 
quently, arrangements were soon afterwards made for 
the erection of a new one. The person who now un- 
dertook it, w as a Mr. Rudyerd, a self-taught mechanic, 
who kept a silk-mercer's shop on Ludgate-hill. Mr. 
Rudyerd's structure was of wood ; upon a plan very 
different from the former; and, from the enormous 
strength of the timbers, w as w^ell calculated to resist 



32S MISCELLANEOUS. 

the fury of the waves. It was of somewhat conical 
shape, ninety-two feet high, and surmounted by a cir- 
cular frame, with glass all round, so as to show the 
light on every side. This great work braved the fury 
of the elements for foriy-six years; but was at last 
destroyed by fire. About two o'clock in the morning of 
the second of December, 1755, one of the thiee light- 
keepers that were stationed there went into the lantern 
to snuff the candles as usual, and was alarmed by 
finding it filled with smoke. On opening the door 
to enter it, a flame instantly burst from the inside 
of the cupola. He awoke his companions, but 
before they could reach the lantern, the fire had at- 
tained such strength, that all their exertions to subdue 
it were of no avail. The terror and dismay of these 
wretched men, on an insulated rock many miles from 
the land, and without any means of escape, were inde- 
scribable. In dreadful alarm, they retreated from the 
immediate scene of horror, into one of the rooms 
below ; and they continued descending from room to 
room, as the fire, with increasing fury, advanced over 
their heads. Early in the morning, the conflagration 
was perceived by some fishermen in Plymouth Sound. 
They spread the alarm, and boats were immediately 
sent to the relief of the unhappy sufferers. They 
were discovered sitting in a hole under the rock, almost 
stupified with terror, and were all conveyed in safety 
to the shore ; when one of them instantly ran off", and 
was never afterwards seen. Another, the man who 
had originally discovered the fire, had been dreadfully 
burnt, by a shower of melted lead which had 
descended upon him from the roof; and a portion of 
which, weighing nearly half a pound, had fallen into 
his mouth as he had been looking upward. He died 
about twelve days afterwards, and on opening his body, 
this portion of the lead was found in his stomach. 

Lady Irivin, How dreadful an account! I have 
read that it was after this lamentable occurrence, that 
iMr. Smeaton was employed. 



JOHN SMEATON. 32? 

Edmund. He was recommended by Lord Maccles- 
field, then president of the Royal Society, as the 
fittest man in the country to construct another light- 
house. His lordship bore a strong testimony to 
his ability, by declaring that he had never known 
Mr. Smeaton undertake any thing in which he did 
not succeed, and to the perfect satisfaction of those 
who had employed him. Mr. Smeaton was, at that 
time, engaged on business in Scotland, but tiie impor- 
tance of this great work induced him immediately to 
return to London. Thence he went to Plymouth, 
examined the plans on which the two former buildings 
had been erected, and afterwards proposed one of his 
own. The structure that he projected was to be of 
stone. 

Louisa, I am glad to hear that. There could not 
then have been the same danger from fire as before. 

Edmund, Certainly not ; but his employers wished 
it to be again constructed of wood. They said that, 
with such materials, it would not only be cheaper, 
but would be less liable to injury from storms, than 
if it were of stone. Mr. Smeaton was of a different 
opinion, and they had the good sense not to oppose his 
judgment. 

With respect to the shape of the stone work, or 
solid part of the structure, it appeared to him that 
the greatest degree of strength would be attained by 
forming it like the natural figure of the bole, or trunk 
of an oak ; that is, of a circular shape, gradually taper- 
ing upward for some distance, and afterwards with its 
sides perpendicular. The next thing to be considered 
was, how the blocks of stone composing this mass were 
to be bonded, or fastened to the rock, and to one another. 
He determined not to cramp them together with iron, 
as is often done in large buildings, but to dovetail 
them ; that is, so to shape the stones that, when built, 
they should lock one another closely together. And 
the first courses he fixed in a similar manner, deeply 
into the rock. It was also requisite to use such mortar 



^26 MISCELLANEOUS. 

or cement for the joints of the stones as should not be 
affected by the water. 

Louisa. As the building was to be of stone, it was 
a fortunate circumstance for Mr. Smeaton, that he 
could obtain it from the very rock on which it was to 
be constructed. 

Edmund. This, Louisa, was not the case. Though 
there are three principal rocks at the Eddy stone, yet 
that on which the lighthouse was to be erected, mea- 
sures, at low water, only about twenty-two yards in 
length, and twelve in width. The stone adopted for 
the exterior of the building was granite, as being more 
durable than any other; and that for the interior was 
Portland stone. All this was wrought and prepared, 
on the shore near Plymouth, and conveyed to the rock 
in vessels adapted to that particular use. 

The work was commenced on the thirty-first of 
July, 1756. The surface of the rock was levelled, 
and several of the steps, with their dovetails, were 
prepared before the setting in of the winter. The 
first stone for the building was landed, got into its 
place, and fixed on the twelfth of June, 1757, and, on 
the following day, the first course of stone-work was 
completed. On the fourteenth, the second course was 
begun ; but, in consequence of a gale of wind, the 
workmen were compelled to quit the rock, after 
securing every thing as fast as possible. On the 
eighteenth they were again as suddenly driven from 
their work ; and several pieces of the stone that had 
been landed, were washed away by the violence of the 
sea. The building proceeded, though its progress was 
retarded by various interruptions and accidents, till the 
latter end of August, when the seventh course was 
nearly finished. A violent storm then arose, which 
carried away the machinery for raising the stones, and 
even two of the largest of the stones themselves, which 
had been left chained on the rock ! Notwithstanding 
these and various other difficulties, the ninth course 
was completed by the end of September. Having 



JOHN SMEATON. 329 

now made every thing as secure on the rock as possible, 
the workmen were again obliged to desist for the 
winter. 

Owing to various accidents in the beginning of the 
following year, 1758, the tenth course of stone-work 
was not completed till the fifth of July. From this 
time there w as no material interruption ; so that, before 
the end of September, the twenty-fifdi course, or the 
first of what Mr. Smeaton denominated the super- 
structure, was finished. 

During the early part of the year 1759, Mr. Smeaton 
was employed, in London, in forming and making 
out the necessary design for the iron rails of the bal- 
cony at the top ; the cast iron, the wrought iron, and 
the copper works for w hat was called the lantern, toge- 
ther with the plate-glass work. On the fifth of July 
he landed on the rock, and found every thing perfectly 
sound and firm ; but, on hauling up, from the store- 
room, the stones for the next circle, he had the mortifi- 
cation to find only seven instead of eight. It was 
imagined that a body of falling water had forced the 
stone that was wanting out of the store-room door, 
and washed it away ; though it weighed betwixt four 
and five hundred pounds. The progress of the work, 
notwithstanding this disappointment, was very rapid. 
On the sixteenth of September, the frame of the lan- 
tern A^ as fixed in its place ; on the seventeenth, the 
cupola, which was to cover the lantern; and on the 
eighteenth, the gilded ball that was to surmount the 
whole, was screwed on. The latter operation was per- 
formed by Mr. Smeaton himself, and a very perilous 
one it seems to have been. Elevated upon almost a 
point, at an immense height above a tremendous sea, 
he was supported only by a scaffold consisting of four 
boards, so nailed together as to permit it to be lifted 
over the ball when done with. This little scaffold 
rested on the cupola, and was balanced by one of the 
masons, who placed himself on the opposite side of 
il, while Mr. Smeaton moved round to fix the screws. 



830 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Louisa. I can scarcely imagine a situation much 
more frightful. The very thought of it makes me 
giddy. I should think tiiat nothing but a most anxious 
zeal for the success of Lis work, and a desire to be 
assured, from his knowledge of the fact, that every 
thing was perfectly secured, could have induced Mr. 
Smeaton thus to risk his life. This, I presume, was 
the finishing of the exterior of the building. 

Edmund, It was. On the first of October the chan- 
deliers were hung ; twenty-four candles were put into 
their proper places, and lighted : and, though, during 
the whole time, it blew a hard gale of wind, they were 
found to burn perfectly well. On the sixteenth of the 
same month, the house was first lighted at night ; and 
the light has been continued ever since. Thus, after 
innumerable difficulties and dangers, was a happy 
period put to this undertaking, without the loss of life 
or limb to any one concerned in it. The time that 
elapsed between the first stroke upon the rock, and the 
lighthouse being completed, was three years, nine 
weeks, and three days. 

Mr. Allen. In this building Mr. Smeaton was pecu- 
liarly attentive to the comfort and accommodation of 
the light-keepers. In that constructed by Mr. Rud- 
yerd, the bed-rooms had been formed in the lower 
part, and the kitchen at the top ; and the beds were 
apt to be damp. In the present structure the chambers 
are contrived above the kitchen ; the funnel for the 
smoke from which passes through them, and they are 
thus kept warm and comfortable. 

Edmund. Mr. Smeaton, from this time, became a 
leading man in his profession, and was employed in 
most of the great public concerns of the nation, that 
were connected with the subjects of his peculiar study. 
He was often consulted in parliament, and frequently 
in the courts of law, on intiicate questions of science ; 
and his strength of judgment, perspicuity of expression, 
and strict integrity, always appeared, on these occa- 
sions, to the highest advantage. 



JOHN SMEATON. 331 

Frederic. Like Brindley, he was frequently em- 
ployed, in the latter part of his life, as an engineer in 
inland navigation. He gave the plan and survey for 
the navigable communication betwixt the Firth of Forth, 
and the Clyde. Mr. Smeaton was also employed as 
the engineer to the harbour of Ramsgate. 

Edmund. His death was somewhat sudden. On 
the sixteenth of September, 1792, while walking in 
his garden at Austhorpe, he was seized by an attack 
of paralysis; and, remaining in a very infirm state, 
though in full possession of his faculties, he died on 
the twenty-eighth of the ensuing month, and in the 
sixty-ninth year of his age. 

Lady Irivin. Has any account been given of the 
habits of Mr. Smeaton in domestic life? 

Mr. Allen. Yes; his manners were simple, and 
his mode of living abstemious. In all the social duties 
of life he was exemplary; he was an affectionate hus- 
band, a good father, a warm, zealous, and sincere 
friend. He was a lover and encourager of merit 
wherever he found it; and himself singularly moderate 
in his pecuniary wishes. He had, it is true, a warmth 
of expression which, to those who did not know him, 
might appear to border on harshness; but those more 
intimately acquainted with him, knew that it arose 
from the intense application of his mind, which was 
incessantly engaged in the investigation of difficult 
subjects. Mr. Smeaton spent much of his leisure time 
in cultivating the science of asironomy, for which pur- 
pose he fitted up an observatory in his house, and 
furnished it with some curious instruments of his own 
contriving. As a companion, he was always both 
entertaining and instructive ; and none could long be 
in his company without improvement. 

A few years before he died, he wished, as much as 
possible, to withdraw himself from business, and to 
employ part of his leisure in drawing up and publish- 
ing an account of his principal inventions and works. 
The only part of this design that he completed was, a 



'^^^^ MISCELLANEOUS. 

folio volume, published in 1791, entitled, ^* A Narrative 
of the Building, and a Description of the Construction 
of the Eddystone Lighthouse/' Tiiis work, which is 
Illustrated with fine plates, and is that to which Ed- 
mund has been indebted for the account he has given, 
is one of the most curious and most interesting archi- 
tectural productions in any language. After the death 
ot Mr. hmeaton, his papers were purchased by Sir 
Joseph Banks, under a voluntary promise of account- 
ing to his executors for whatever profits might arise 
rom the printing of them. Three quarto volumes of 
his reports have, in consequence, been published. 



FORTY-SECOND EVENING. 

Louisa, I know not whether an unusual degree of 
anxiety may have been apparent in my conduct at the 
commencement of the conversations for the two last 
evenings. 

Frederic said that he had remarked nothing further 
than a close attention to the subjects discussed; but 
Edmund recollected a pecuUar eagerness in his sister's 
last night inquiring the name of the person of whom 
he was about to speak. 

Louisa. The fact is this. I had been reading tlie 
life of Ferguson, the Scots mechanist and astro- 
nomer, and had stored in my mind most of the leading 
particulars of it. These I was desirous of being per- 
mitted to recite, in the same manner that Mr. Allen 
had spoken of Jedidiah Buxton; and was fearful that 
1 might have been anticipated, first by Frederic, and 
then by Edmund. That, however, not having been 
the case, I will request to speak of him now. ' 

Frederic repUed that, he had certainly intended to 
propose the life of Ferguson for discussion ; but that 
in this, as on every other subject, he should have great 
pleasure in giving place to his cousin. 



JAMES FERGUSON. 33;5 

]Miss Irwin thus began: 

"James Ferguson was born of indigent parents, 
at Keith, a small town in BamfFsliire, Scotland, in the 
year 1710. His father had a large family ; and could 
give his children no further education, than at his 
leisure hours to teach them himself, in a very humble 
way, to read and write. James, who showed early 
indications of exti-aordinary genius, learned to read 
by only looking over his brother from time to time, as 
he read aloud the Scots catechism. This he did with- 
out exciting the attention of any one ; so that, some 
time afterwards, his father was astonished to hear him 
reading aloud by himself. His father then taught him to 
write ; and determined to send him for three months, 
though he could ill afford it, to a grammar school at 
Keith. This was all the education that Mr. Ferguson 
ever received. 

" When he was betwixt seven and eight years old, 
part of the roof of his father's house fell in; and a 
prop and lever were applied to raise it to its former 
place. The facility with which this was effected, so 
strongly excited his astonishment, that, young as he 
was, he was led to consider attentively the means by 
which it had been accomplished. He immediately 
began to construct levers, and soon indicated a peculiar 
taste for mechanics. By endeavouring to make a lever 
that would raise bodies to any height, he discovered 
another of the mechanical powers, the wheel and axle; 
and he contrived to make models of these and other 
machines, by means of his father's turning lathe, and a 
knife. He soon afterwards wrote out a little account 
of them, which he illustrated with rude draw ings in 
ink. This he showed to a gentleman of the neighbour- 
hood, imagining it to have been the first treatise of the 
kind that had ever been written ; and was not a little 
astonished to find that the same things had been known 
long before. The gentleman lent him a printed book 
in which they were treated of; and the boy was much 
pleased to observe that, in many particulars, his 



33-1 MISCELLANEOUS. 

own account coincided with what he found insertec 
there. 

''In consequence of his father^s poverty, Jamed 
was placed out to service, in the occupation of a shep-r 
herd. This was an employment that suited his dispoi 
sition. Part of his night was now spent in studying 
the stars ; while, in the day-time, he made models o* 
mills, spinning wheels, and odier machinery. 

'' After a few years he went into the service of a 
farmer, who was peculiarly indulgent to him. When 
his work was over, James was permitted to go into 
the fields with a blanket wrapped around him. 
Here, lying on his back, he would take the apparent 
distances of the stars, by a thread with small beads 
strung upon it. He used to stretch the thread at arms 
length before his eyes ; then laying it on a paper, he 
marked the respective positions of the stars by the 
beads. His master at first laughed at this apparently 
ridiculous occupation ; but as soon as he understood 
the object of it, he encouraged James, by every means 
in his power, to proceed. 

" One day, being sent on an errand to the minister 
of Keith, James took with him what he called his 
star-papers. He found the minister occupied in look- 
ing over a large parcel of maps. They were the first 
that he had ever seen. The minister described to him 
the shape of the earth; told him that it was round, like 
a ball; and kindly explained to him the map of it, 
This map James begged permission to borrow, that 
he might copy it, in the evenings after his work 
was over. The minister readily lent it him; he 
also gave him a pair of compasses, a ruler, pens, 
ink, and paper; at the same time strictly enjoining of 
him not to neglect his master's business. His master 
however, was so much pleased with his performances 
that he w^ould often take the threshing flail out of hif 
hands, and work himself, while James was sitting be- 
side him in the barn, busily employed with his pen 
ruler, and compasses. 



JAMES FERGUSON. 333 

** On his return to the minister with the map he had 
borrowed, and the copy that he liad made of it, James 
saw a man painting a sun-dial. He stopped a little 
while to observe him; and, proud of his performance, 
showed him the copy he had made of the map. He 
then went on to the minister's. While he and the 
minister were conversing, a neighbouring gentleman, 
whose name was Grant, came in. To this gentleman 
the minister introduced him, and showed his map. Mr. 
Grant was so much pleased with the boy, that he in- 
vited him to live with him. He said, if he would do so, 
his butler, Alexander Cantley, should give him a great 
deal of instruction. James, delighted with this invita- 
tion, gladly complied with it, as soon as the term of 
servitude with his master was expired. 

"Alexander Cantley, the butler of Mr. Grant, 
proved to be the same person that James had seen 
painting the sun-dial. He was a very extraordinary 
character. Though entirely self-taught, he was a good 
mathematician, and a performer on every kind of musi- 
cal instrument except the harp. He understood Latin, 
Greek, and French; and, on urgent occasions, was 
often applied to by the country people as a physician. 

*' Having received from this butler a present of 
Gordon's Geographical Grammar, James constructed 
a globe, from the description which is there given of it. 
And, having delineated upon his globe a map of the 
world, he was enabled to solve, by means of it, all the 
common problems in geography and astronomy. This 
globe, of his own making, was the first he had ever 
seen. 

"Cantley proved a kind and attentive instructor; 
hut, after a little while, he left Mr. Grant to live with 
the Earl of Fife; and James could not be prevailed 
with to continue when his friend was gone. He con- 
sequently went into the service of a miller, expecting 
that he should there have sufficient time to study deci- 
mal arithmetic and geometry; but his new master was 
so fond of drinking, that James had the whole care of 



330 MISCELLANEOUS. 

tlie mill upon himself. He was also nearly starved for 
want of food. To this inhuman master he was engaged 
for a year: and, at the end of that time, he returned, 
in a very weak state, to his father. 

^' As soon as he had somewhat recovered his 
strength, he entered the service of a person whose 
name was Young, and who acted in the joint capacity 
of farmer and physician. His chief inducement to 
this had been a promise, on the part oi Young, that 
he would instruct him in medicine. His new master, 
however, proved as bad as the former. He never even 
showed him one of his books, and overwrought him to 
such a degree, that, at the end of three months, 
James was obliged to leave him, in a state of great 
debility, and without receiving any part of his wages. 
The inhuman doctor did not even give him medical 
advice ; and it was only by medicines that were sent 
by his old friend Cantley, who lived twelve miles off, 
that he at last recovered his strength. 

'* During his illness, James, who had too active a 
mind ever to be idle, contrived to make a wooden 
clock, the hours of which were struck on the neck of 
aijottle instead of a bell. Some time afterwards, hap- 
pening to see a gentleman ride past his father's house, 
he asked him what o'clock it was. The gentleman 
answered him with so much good nature, that James 
ventured to request he would show him the inside of 
his watch ; as he could not imagine how it went with- 
out a weight and a string, similar to those of a clock. 
The gentleman kindly complied with his request. 
When James saw the spring-box, with part of the 
chain round it, he eagerly inquired what it was that 
made the box turn round. The gentleman, delighted 
with the inquisitive mind of a rough-looking country 
lad, told him it was turned by a steel spring that 
was within it. James could not immediately compre- 
hend this ; but the gentleman said to him : ' Well, my 
lad, take a long thin piece of whalebone, hold one 
end of it fast between your finger and thumb, and 



JAMES FERGUbON. 337 

w ind it round your finger : it will then endeavour to 
unwind itself. And if you fix the other end of it to 
the inside of a small hoop, and leave it to itself, it 
will turn the hoop round and round, and wind up a 
string tied to the outside of the hoop.' James thanked 
the gentleman for his information, and told him he 
perfectly understood how the motion of the watch was 
caused. 

'' His whole mind was'now bent on making a watch. 
This he at last effected, with wooden wheels and a 
whalebone spring. He enclosed the whole in a wooden 
box, not much larger than a breakfast cup. But a 
clumsy neighbour, one day looking at this extraordinary 
watch, let it fall ; and, turning hastily round to take it 
up, crushed it to pieces with his foot, Ferguson was 
so much discouraged by this accident, that he never 
attempted another ; especially as he was convinced he 
could not make one that would be of any use. 

*' As soon as he had recovered from his illness, and 
was able to go abroad, he carried his globe, clock, and 
maps, to Sir James Dunbar, of Durn, about seven 
miles- from his father's house ; as he had been informed 
that Sir James was a good natured and inquisitive 
gentleman. He was received with great kindness; 
and Sir James asked him if he did not think he could 
clean his clocks. Ferguson made the attempt, and 
succeeded. From this time he was employed aromid 
the neighbourhood in the cleaning and repairing of 
clocks, and in drawing patterns for ladies' needle- 
work, at which he also became very skilful. Sir 
James invited him to live at his house, which he did 
for some time. By his different employments, he 
now contrived to earn so much money, that he began 
to think of growing rich ; and he had the satisfaction 
of frequently supplying the wants of his father. 

*' TV' bile in the house of Sir James Dunbar, Ferguson's 

taste for drawing induced Lady Dipple, the sister of 

Sir James, to invite him, for twelve months, to her house 

at Edinburgh, that he might have an opportunity of 

o 



338 MISCELLANEOUS. 

acquiring a knowledge of that art, under proper mas- 
ters. He succeeded so well, that he was encouraged 
to attempt portrait painting. In this he acquired so 
great a facility, as to make it a lucrative profession, 
and to obtain from it his principal support for more 
than twenty years. 

'' It ought to be remarked that, during the two 
years that Ferguson resided in Edinburgh, he had so 
strong a desire to study medicine that, for a time, he 
forsook all his favourite pursuits for this. He then 
went into the countr}^ with a cargo of medicines and 
plasters, but with a very scanty knowledge of the art ; 
and began to practice medicine in his native town. 
He was, however, an unsuccessful practitioner; and, 
jinding that no one paid him for his medicines, he went 
to Inverness, for the purpose of resuming his profes- 
sion of a painter. 

*^ After having continued some years longer in dif- 
ferent parts of Scotland, Ferguson, in 1745, went to 
London, with letters of recommendation to many per- 
sons of science and distinction. Here he began his 
old profession of portrait painting; amusing himself 
at his leisure hours, with astronomical studies. He 
afterwards published some curious astronomical tables 
and calculations ; and he gave public lectures (by sub- 
scription) in experimental philosophy, not only in 
London, but in many of the principal towns of En- 
gland, with the highest marks of approbation. He 
was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society ; and, about 
the same time, was introduced to his present Majesty, 
then Prince of Wales. The prince attended his lec- 
tures, and took great pleasure in conversing with him 
on astronomical subjects. Mr. Ferguson received se- 
veral presents from the prince ; and, afterwards, a pen- 
sion of fifty pounds a year out of his privy purse, which 
was regularly paid to him till his death. 

"Mr. Ferguson had always a weak constitution; 
which perhaps was much uijured by his intense appli- 
cation to study. After long struggling with a lingering 



JAMES FERGUSON. 339 

illness, he expired on the sixteenth of November, 
1776, in the sixty-sixth year of his age; leaving an 
only son, to whom he bequeathed the property that he 
had derived from his lectures, and his various works." 

Here Miss Irwin terminated. Edmund inquired 
whether Ferguson had not died very poor. 

Mi\ Allen, His friends had always imagined him to 
be poor; but he left, at his death, a sum of money 
amounting to about six thousand pounds. 

Lady Irwin, What was his private character? 

Mr, Allen. In his manners he was benevolent, 
meek, and innocent as a child. His whole life is said 
to have been an example of resignation, and Christian 
piety; and his philosophy to have produced in him, 
only diffidence and urbanity , a love for mankind, and 
sincere devotion to liis Maker. 

Frederic, He is described to have been a man of 
clear judgment, and unwearied application ; and to 
have had a happy manner of conveying his ideas on 
the subjects of astronomy, and natural philosophy, with 
ease, perspicuity, and familiarity ; and thus he became 
not only a useful, but a popular writer and lecturer. 

Mr, Allen, Notwithstanding this, it is somewhat 
singular, that his general mathematical knowledge was 
very superficial. Of algebra he understood little more 
than the notation; and he often declared, that he could 
never demonstrate even a single proposition in Euclid's 
Elements. His constant method was, to satisfy himself 
as to the truth of any problem, by measurement with a 
scale and compasses. 

Louisa. What were his principal publications ? 

Mr, Allen, Besides astronomical tables, ti'acts, let- 
ters, and papers on subjects connected with philosophy, 
Ferguson published, in 1756, ''Astronomy explained 
upon Sir Isaac Newton's Principles, and made easy 
to those who have not studied Mathematics;" in I7G0, 
" Lectures on several Subjects, in Mechanics, Hydro- 
statics, Pneumatics, Optics, Geography, Astronomy, 



MO MISCELLANEOUS. 

and Dialling;" in 1768, "The Young Gentleman's and 
Ladies' Astronomy familiarly explained, in Ten Dia- 
logues;" which was reprinted in the ensuing year, 
under the title of *'An easy Introduction to Astro- 
nomy for Young Gentlemen and Ladies;" in 1773, 
" Select Mechanical Exercises, with a short Account of 
the Author, by himself." The two first of these works 
have each been lately republished by Dr. Brewster, 
in two volumes octavo, with additions of discoveries 
since the death of the author. The lectures on me- 
chanics, &c, are considered the best and most useful 
of all his works. They passed through several edi- 
tions, and are said to have contributed more to the 
diffusion of mathematical knowledge, than all the 
other works that have been written upon these subjects. 



FORTY-THIRD EVENING. 

The last life proposed for discussion, under the pre- 
sent head of Biographical Conversations, was that of 
the philanthropist JLohn Howard, the active and in- 
defatigable friend of the unfortunate; whose pure 
delight it was to visit the abodes of misery, wherever 
found, that he might be the happy instrument of alle- 
viating its oppression ; and the great tendency of whose 
labours was, to effect the most important improvements, 
both with respect to comfort and morals, in the regu- 
lation of public prisons, not merely of our own, but 
of every other country. He was born at Hackney, 
in the year 1726. 

Miss Irwin said she had read much relative to 
the exertions of Mr. Howard, in visiting prisons in 
different parts of Europe, but was unacquainted with 
the particulars of his early life. Frederic replied that^ 
his father had kept a carpet- warehouse in Long-lane, 
Smithfield; and that, dying while Mr. Howard was 
very young, the guardians of the latter had subse- 



JOHN HOWARD. 341 

quently apprenticed him to a wholesale grocer in the 
city of London. 

Mr, Allen, But he did not long continue in this 
situation ; for his constitution appearing too delicate 
for the toils of a laborious business, and his father 
having left him, and an only sister, in circumstances 
which placed him above the necessity of pursuing it, 
he bought out the remainder of his indentures before 
the time, and made a tour through the principal parts 
of France and Italy. 

Frederic, This is nearly all the account we have of 
his early years. Not having been brought up to a 
learned profession, his education had not been much 
attended to ; but the strength of his mind, and the 
steadiness of his perseverance, supplied, in a great 
degree, this deficiency. 

Louisa, On his return from the continent, what were 
the occurrences respecting him ? 

Edmund, He took lodgings in the house of a Mrs. 
Lardeau, a sensible and worthy woman, who resided 
at Stoke Newington. His health was now very infirm ; 
and, in Mrs. Lardeau, he found so tender and affec- 
tionate a nurse, that, although she was old enough to be 
his mother, and had herself been an invalid for many 
years, he was induced to offer her his hand in mar- 
riage. She was surprised at the offer, and expostulated 
with him on the extravagance of such an union. But 
it was not the character of Mr. Howard to be deterred 
from his purpose by a dread of obloqu}? or ridicule; 
and she became his wife in the year 1752. 

Louisa, How did Mr. Howard chiefly occupy his 
time while at Stoke Newington ? 

Edmund. When his health would permit it, he em- 
ployed himself in improving his mind by reading and 
study. It is said that he would frequently ride out 
with a book in his pocket ; and, turning his horse to 
gi'aze on a common, or by the side of the road, Avould 
take out the book, and read for several hours. 

Lady Irwin, He must have been a very eccentric man. 
o2 



342 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Edmund, He was certainly singular in many of his 
habits ; but nearly all his singularities were of an 
amiable kind. 

His wife survived their union but three years; and 
he sincerely mourned her loss. 

Frederic. Being now disengaged from domestic 
cares, he determined to make a voyage to Lisbon. 

Louisa. And what was the object of this voyage ? 

Frederic. Apparently a somewhat singular one : to 
view the state of Lisbon after the dreadful earthquake, 
which had occurred in November, 1755. Mr. Howard 
sailed in the Hanover frigate. This country was then 
at war with France. He was taken prisoner; and the 
inconveniences that he suffered, during his subsequent 
confinement in France, are supposed to have first 
awakened his sympathy in favour of prisoners, and to 
have, in some degree, given rise to his subsequent plans 
for rendering prisons less pernicious to health than 
they had before been. 

Louisa. I am aware of Mr. Howard's zealous atten- 
tion to the state of prisons in various parts of Europe. 
Did he commence his different journies of inspection 
immediately after his own liberation ? 

Frederic. I believe not immediately afterwards. He 
returned to England, and settled at Brokenhurst, in 
the New Forest, Hants. 

Sir Charles. One of his first acts on settling at Broken- 
hurst was to make a tour through the parish, and to 
visit, in person, every poor family it contained. To 
each of these he gave pecuniary relief, comfortable 
clothing where it was requisite, a Bible, Prayer-book, 
and the Whole Duty of Man. 

Lady L^win. I thought Mr. Howard had been a 
dissenter from the Church of England; and yet you 
state that he distributed Prayer-books at Brokenhurst. 

Sir Charles. Mr. Howard had been brought up in 
the principles of Presbyterianism ; but his religion was 
of that description which considered chiefly the prac- 
tice of Christian duties. His attendance at the church 



JOHN HOWARD. 343 

and meeting-house was equally regular. His bene- 
volence was of the most extensive kind. It was 
enough for him to see distress; the form of it was not 
material; no difference of sect or opinion cramped 
his philanthropy, or prevented him from endeavouring 
to promote the happiness of mankind. 

During his residence at Brokenhurst, Mr. Howard 
V as married a second time. His present lady lived 
about seven years; and, dying in 1765, left an only 
child, a son. About this time he relinquished his 
habitation in the New Forest, and purchased an estate 
near Bedford. 

Frederic. Here his benevolence was again actively 
displayed. He projected numerous improvements in 
his property, for the purpose chiefly of giving employ- 
ment to the poor. He built for them numerous cot- 
tages, and distributed both money and clothes accord- 
ing to their wants and deserts. 

Edmund. It was during his residence near Bedford, 
that the actual distress of prisoners was brought 
more immediately under his notice than before. In 
1773 he served the office of high sheriff; and was 
witness to so much misery, as, reviving the idea of his 
own confinement in France, to be led to the bene- 
volent design of himself visiting the gaols, and other 
places of confinement, throughout England, with a 
view of procuring, if possible, an alleviation of the 
miseries of the sufferers. This project he accomplished 
with indefatigable zeal; and being afterwards examined 
before the house of commons, on the subject of prisons, 
he received the thanks of that house for his attention 
to them. 

Lady Irivin. It must have been extremely gratifying 
to him, to have thus found that his voluntary labours 
had not been wholly in vain; and that they appeared 
to promise those benefits which he had proposed to 
himself by them. 

Mr. Allen, A stimulus to do good was scarcely 
necessary to such a man as Mr. Howard; but the 



344 MISCELLANEOUS. 

encouragement he received, induced him to hope for 
more success from greater exertions. He, therefore, 
again and again visited the receptacles of crime, of 
poverty, and misery, throughout Great Britain and 
Ireland ; and, shortly afterwards, extended his views 
even to foreign countries, 

Frederic. With this design, sir, I have read that he 
three times travelled through France, four times tlirough 
Germany, five through Holland, twice through Italy, 
once in Spain and Portugal; and through Denmark, 
Sweden, Russia, Poland, and part of Turkey. 

Louisa, How many years were in the whole occu- 
pied by these various excursions ? 

Frederic. With some short intervals of rest at home, 
nearly twelve. There never before was so considerable 
a portion of the life of any individual applied to such 
benevolent and useful purposes, and that without any 
motive whatever of interest or pleasure, beyond the 
virtuous satisfaction of benefiting his fellow-creatures. 

Edmund. I have read a considerable portion of 
Mr. Howard's work on the state of prisons in England 
and Wales, including an account of some foreign 
prisons, as it was republished in 1784. 

Mr. Allen. And a more lamentable statement of pri- 
vate misery, of insensibility in goalers, and of neglect 
or cruelty in those who had the superintendence of 
prisons, was never exhibited to the commiseration or 
abhorrence of mankind. 

Lady Lwin. The exposure of all this to the public 
must alone have had a beneficial tendency; and, 
indeed, we find that, in consequence of it, the state 
of prisons was afterwards much improved both in our 
own and in other countries. So much attention was 
excited in England, that I recollect a large subscrip- 
tion was made for the purpose of erecting a statue to 
the honour of Mr. Howard. 

Frederic. He was abroad at the time, engaged in 
one of his peregrinations of love and charity to the 
human race. When he was first informed of this 



JOHN HOWARD. 345 

intention, he exclaimed, " Have I not one friend in 
England who would put a stop to such a proceeding ?" 
and immediately wrote to the subscribers, to request, in 
the most earnest manner, that the design might be given 
up. This was done; and the money that had been 
collected, was applied principally towards the relief 
of prisoners. 

Edmund. But Mr. Howard was not contented witli 
visiting prisons : his anxious attention was also paid to 
an examination of lazarettos or hospitals for the recep- 
tion of diseased persons. And, in 1789, he published 
" An Account of the principal Lazarettos in Europe, 
with various Papers relative to the Plague, together 
with further Observations on some Foreign Prisons 
and Hospitals ; and additional Remarks on the present 
State of those in Great Britain and Ireland." 

Frederic, In this publication he announced his de- 
sign of revisiting Russia, Turkey, and some other 
countries, and extending his tour in the east. *^ I am 
not," he says, " insensible of the dangers that must 
attend such a journey. Trusting, however, in the pro- 
tection of that kind Providence Avhich has hitherto 
preserved me, I calmly and cheerfully commit myself 
to the disposal of unerring wisdom. Should it please 
God to cut off my life in the prosecution of this design, 
let not my conduct be uncandidly imputed to rashness 
or enthusiasm, but to a serious, deliberate conviction, 
that I am pursuing the path of duty; and to a sincere 
desire of being made an instrument of more extensive 
usefulness to my fellow-creatures, than could be ex- 
pected in the narrower circle of a retired life." 

Sir Charles, It was in the pursuance of this truly 
benevolent design, that Mr. Howard did actually fall 
a sacrifice. Having passed some time at Cherson, a 
new Russian settlement, on the banks of the Dnieper, 
where the insalubrity of the place had cut oflP thou- 
sands of the inhabitants, his benevolence induced him 
to visit a young lady, who lay dangerously ill of an 
infectious fever, that he might administer some medi- 



346 MISCELLANEOUS. 

cines for her relief. Mr. Howard caught the distem- 
per, and became a victim to his humanity. He died 
about twelve days afterwards, on the twentieth of 
January, 1790; and was interred in a place selected 
by himself, in the desert near the village of Daupliigny, 
at a little distance from Cherson. 

Lady Irwin. Did he not give directions that there 
should be no monument erected over his remains ? 

Sir Charles. He did so; but a black pyramid, or 
obelisk, though without any inscription, was erected 
there. A compliment was paid to him in this country, 
which no other private subject ever received : his death 
was announced to the public by the London Gazette. 

Louisa, I have often seen the monument that, after 
his death, was erected to his memory in St. Paul's 
cathedral. It represents Mr. Howard, in a Roman 
dress, with a look and attitude expressive of bene- 
volence and activity; holding in one hand a scroll 
of plans for the improvement of prisons, &c. and in 
the other a key ; while he is trampling on chains and 
and fetters. The epitaph contains a sketch of his life, 
and concludes with these words : '' He trod an open 
but unfrequented path to immortality, in the ardent 
and unremitted exercise of Christian charity. May this 
tribute to his fame excite an emulation of his truly 
glorious achievements I" 

Sir Charles. We have yet said nothing respecting 
Mr. Howard's habits of life. In these he w as rigidly 
temperate. He totally avoided the use of animal food; 
and, at one time, subsisted entirely on potatoes; and 
at another chiefly on tea and bread and butter. He 
did not at all mix with convivial society ; and no pubhc 
invitations, however honourable, were accepted by him. 
His only delight, during many of the latter years of 
his life, appears to have consisted in visiting and afford- 
ing comfort in the abodes of misery. 

Mr. Allen. How beautiful an eulogium did Mr. 
Burke pronounce upon him, even during his life, in a 
speech made at Bristol, in the year 1780. *' I 



JOHN HOWARi3. 347 

cannot name this gentleman," says he, '' without 
remarking that his labours and writings have done 
much to open the eyes and the hearts of mankind. 
He has visited all Europe, — not to survey the sump- 
tuousness of palaces, nor the stateliness of temples; 
not to make accurate measurements of the remains of 
ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the curiosity 
of modern art; not to collect medals, nor collate 
manuscripts; — but to dive into the depths of dungeons; 
to plunge into the infections of hospitals; to survey the 
mansions of sorrow and pain; to take the gage and 
dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt; to 
remember the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to 
visit the forsaken, and to compare and collate the 
distresses of all men in all countries. His plan was 
original, and it is as full of genius, as it is of humanity. 
It was a voyage of discovery, a circumnavigation of 
charity. Already the benefit of his labour is felt more 
or less in every country ; I hope he will anticipate his 
final reward, by seeing all its effects fully realised in 
his own. He will receive, not by retail, but in gross, 
the reward of those who visit the prisoner; and he 
has so forestalled and monopolized this branch of cha- 
rity, that there will be, I trust, little room to merit by 
such acts of benevolence hereafter." 

With the life of Howard the present class of bio- 
graphical discussions terminated. A new series was 
proposed by Mr. Allen, which, he said, might perhaps 
be rendered even more entertaining than the past, 
because they would comprise an account of personal 
adventures, sometimes of very extraordinary kind : 
they would also tend to illustrate, in a familiar manner, 
the geography of foreign countries, and, in some de- 
gree, the habits and customs of the people of foreign 
nations. ^ 

He then laid down the plan of a series of Biogra- 
phical Conversations, relative to the most eminent 
VOYAGERS AND TRAVELLERS of all nations. He 



f '7 fi> " 

348 MISCELLANEOUS. 

proposed that the leading domestic events of each of 
the lives should, as before, be subject to discussion: 
but, with respect to their different enterprises and ad- 
ventures ^ he was desirous of having these drawn up, 
and read in the form of narratives. By this plan the 
mode of discussion, he said, would be somewhat 
varied; and the peculiar interest of the narratives 
themselves would not be weakened by interruption. 
He stated, that he had another reason: the young per- 
sons would thereby be supplied with daily exercises in 
EngUsh composition. It was probable, he remarked, 
that most of the narratives might elicit some discussion ; 
and, he observed, that, in such case, this would, of 
course, take place immediately after they were respec- 
tively read. Sir Charles and Lady Irwin each ap- 
proved of the project ; and the young gentlemen were 
directed to prepare themselves with an account of 
the life and voyages of Columbus. To this they 
immediately and most cheerfully assented ; at the same 
time expressing themselves much indebted io Sir 
Charles Irwin and Mr. Allen, both for the pleasiire 
and information they had derived from the iate dis- 
eussions. 



I'lNlS. 



^ 



C. VVhittin^ham, Printer, Chiswick. . 



LB My '04 



